B    3    33^ 


v  v 


LORENA  M.  PAGE 


LEGENDARY  LORE  OF  MACKINAC 

Original  poems  of  Indian  Legends  of  Mackinac  Island 
BY  LORENA  M."  PAGE 


ILLUSTRATED 


LORENA  M.  PAGE 
CLEVELAND,  O. 


Copyrighted  1901 
Bv  LORENA  M.  PAGE. 


PRESS    OF 

THE   O     8.    HUBBELL    PRINTING    CO 
CLEVELAND 


'  Tell  me,  ye  -winged  winds,  that  round  my  path-way  roar, 
Do  ye  not  know  some  spot  -where  mortals  iveep  no  more  f 
Some  lone  and  pleasant  dell,  some  valley  in  the  ^vest, 
Where,  free  from  toil  and  pain,  the  weary  soul  may  rest? 
The  loud  wind  dwindled  to  a  whisper  low, 
And  sighed  for  pity ,  as  it  answered — ' No? 

'Tell  me,  thou  might  v  deep,  whose  billows  round  me  play, 
Know'st  thou  some  favored  spot,  some  Island  fai   away — 
Where  weary  man  may  find  the  bliss  for  which  he  sighs, 
Where  sorrow  never  lives,  and  friendship  never  dies?" 

— Charles  Mackay. 

The  waves  low  murmur  as  they  closer  draw, 
And  pause  as  they  answer — "Tes,  Mackinac  I" 


M142106 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

The  Enchanted  Island,          .  .          13 

Past  and  Present,              .'  20 

The  Wishing  Well,  21 

Robinson's  Folly,             ...  26 

Snow  Islands  (Les  Chenaux),          .  .         30 

Fairy  Arch  and  the  Giant's  Stair,  37 

The  Four  Winds,       ...  42 

The  Skeleton  on  the  Stair,      '    .  45 

Arch  Rock,                 .  •         48 

Skull  Cave,           ...  53 

The  Twin  Sister  Rocks,       .  61 

Nif-fon  and  Pe-bo-an,      .             A  f  67 

Sugar  Loaf  Rock,     .  .         71 

Love  Song,            .  75 

Hanging  Rocks,         ...  .78 

Scott's  Cave,         ...  85 

The  Two  Tall  Pines  of  Piney  Point,  .              .              .              .90 

Friendship's  Altar,           .  95 

The  Cold  Spring,      ....  .        100 

The  "Indian  Pipes"— the  Ghost  Flower,          .  103 

Lover's  Leap,             .             .  •       107 

Devil's  Kitchen,                .  115 

Sha-won-das-see,       .  •       I22 

Pontiac's  Lookout,           .              .  .                                                       I24 

Indian  Summer,         .              .             .  .              .              •                     J3° 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE. 

Moccasins,      .....  ...  8 

Drawn  by  the  author. 

Mackinac  Island  in  the  distance,       .  .  .  .  .13 

Photographed  by  Gardiner,  Detroit  and  Mackinac  Island. 

"A  lone  lodge,"  ......  16 

Photographed  by  L.  Moorhouse,  Pendleton,  Oregon. 

Indian  Papoose,         .  .„  .  •  .  •  .18 

Photographed  by  L.  Moorhouse,  Pendleton,  Oregon. 

Past,  ......  20 

Drawn  by  the  author. 

Present,  ........         20 

Drawn  by  the  author. 

Initial,        ........  21 

Drawn  by  the  author. 

"Thou  shalt  see  a  noble  warrior,"  .  .  .  .22 

Drawn  by  the  author. 

"A  canoe  shot  o'er  the  waters,"  ....  23 

Drawn  by  the  author. 

The  Fort,        ........         26 

Photographed  by  Rossiter,  Mackinac  Island. 

"He  told  all  his  love  for  her  anew,"      ....  27 

Drawn  by  the  author. 

Robinson's  Folly,      .......          28 

Photographed  by  Rossiter,  Mackinac  Island. 

Initial,        ........  30 

Drawn  by  the  author. 

"The  snow  drifts  piled  deep  'round  the  lodge  on  the 

highland,"        .......         30 

Photographed  by  L.  Moorhouse,  Pendleton,  Oregon. 

"They  paused  to  listen,"  .....  36 

Photographed  by  L.  Moorhouse,  Pendleton,  Oregon. 


PAGE. 

"An  Arch  in  the  rock  on  an  Island  enchanted,"  .  37 

Drawn  by  the  author. 
"Twisted  trees,"  .  .  ...  .  .  38 

Photographed  by  Rossiter,  Mackinac  Island. 

Leaning  Rock,  .......         39 

"The  rock-fashioned  stairway,"  ....  40 

Photographed  by  Rossiter,  Mackinac  Island. 

"I  know  its  wooded  wiles,"  .  .  .  .  .42 

Photographed  by  Gardiner,  Detroit  and  Mackinac  Is. 

"The  wreaths  curl  up  from  his  queer  red  pipe,"         .  .  45 

Drawn  by  the  author. 
Initial,        .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  48 

Drawn  by  the  author. 
Arch  Rock,  .  .  .  .  .  .50 

Photographed  by  Rossiter,  Mackinac  Island. 

The  Cave  in  the  Wood,  .  .  .  .  .  51 

Photographed  by  Gardiner,  Detroit  and  Mackinac  Is. 

"  'Tis  called  Gitchie  Manito,"        .  .  .  .  .51 

Photographed  by  Childs,  Mackinac  Island. 

"The  small  Arch  where  the  fairies  were  hidden,"     .  .  52 

Photographed  by  Foley  Bros.,  Mackinac  IslanJ. 

The  "Crack"  in  the  Island,  .  .  .  .  .52 

Photographed  by  Gardiner,  Detroit  and  Mackinac  Is. 
Skull  Cave,  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  53 

Photographed  by  Wickman,  Mackinac  Island. 

"Here  the  Wind  Bird  fell  with  me,"          .  ...  .56 

Drawn  by  the  author. 

The  Twin  Sister  Rocks,  ...  61 

Photographed  by  Gardiner,  Detroit  and  Mackinac  Is. 

"Two  babies  waiting,  cosy  and  warm,"  .  .  .65 

Photographed  by  L.  Moorhouse,  Pendleton,  Oregon. 

"When  came  the  'Moon  of  Falling  Leaf,'"  .  .  66 

Photographed  by  Gardiner,  Detroit  and  Mackinac  Is. 

Sugar  Loaf  Rock,      .......         70 

Photographed  by  Rossiter,  Mackinac  Island. 

"The  silver  moon  rising  slowly,"  .  .  .  73 

Photographed  by  Gardiner,  Detroit  and  Mackinac  Is. 

"Oh,  maiden,  give  ear  to  thy  lover's  voice,"         .  .  -75 

Photographed  by  L.  Moorhouse,  Pendleton,  Oregon. 

Hanging  Rocks,  .  77 

Photographed  by  C.  E.  Kelso,  Manistique,  Mich. 


PAGE. 

"He  entered  the  cool  and  columned  halls,"  *  .  -79 

Drawn  by  the  author. 

"Through  the  bloom  on  every  side,"      .  86 

Photographed  by  Rossiter,  Mackinac  Island. 

"On  its  threshold  cold  fresh  leaves  were  thrown,"  .  .         88 

Photographed  by  C.  E.  Kelso,  Manistique,  Mich. 

"Against  the  bark  she  laid  her  cheek,"  ...  90 

Drawn  by  the  author. 
Friendship's  Altar,  .  .  .  .  .  .94 

Photographed  by  C.  E.  Kelso,  Manistique,  Mich. 

"For  here  as  the  sun  set  they  would  meet,"  .  .  100 

Drawn  by  the  author. 

"Where  paths  were  worn  by  the  red  man's  feet,"  .  .        101 

Photographed  by  Rossiter,  Mackinac  Island. 
Initial,        ........  103 

Drawn  by  the  author. 

"An  Indian  chief  met  my  startled  gaze,"  .  .  .        104 

Drawn  by  the  author. 

Lover's  Leap,       .......  107 

Photographed  by  Bell,  Sault  Ste.  Marie,  Mich. 

"So  a  chieftain  shall  I  be,"  .  .  .  .  .108 

Drawn  by  the  author. 

"It  lit  up  the  company  gathered  around,"  .  .  115 

Drawn  by  the  author. 
British  Landing,        .  .  .  .  .  .  .116 

Photographed  by  Gardiner,  Detroit  and  Mackinac  Is. 
Block  House,        .  .  .  .  .  .  .  117 

Photographed  by  Gardiner,  Detroit  and  Mackinac  Is. 

"The  monster  boat  will  o'er  us  float,"  .  .  .119 

Photograped  by  Wickman,  Mackinac  Island. 

The  old  mission  buildings,          .  .  .  .  .  120 

Photographed  by  Gardiner,  Detroit  and  Mackinac  Is. 

"By  the  broad  and  deep  lagoon,"  ....        122 

Photographed  by  Wickman,  Mackinac  Island. 

"A  warrior  looked  across  the  strait,"  .  .  .  124 

Photographed  by  Gardiner,  Detroit  and  Mackinac  Is. 

Chimney  Rock,          .  .  .  .  .  .  .125 

Photographed  by  Gardiner,  Detroit  and  Mackinac  Is. 

Autumn  Woods,  ......  130 

Photographed  by  Rossiter,  Mackinac  Island. 


THE  ENCHANTED  ISLAND. 


A  lodge  stood  by  the  gleaming  sea, 
Stood  close  beside  the  shell-strewn  shore, 
Where  breezes  wafting  wild  and  free 
Could  enter  at  the  open  door. 
A  light,  not  of  the  sun  or  moon, 
Through  all  that  clime  of  "Northern  Lights' 
More  radiant  glowed  than  fairest  noon 
O'er  all  the  vales  and  rocky  heights. 
Two  sea  gulls,  white  as  sea  foam,  sat 
Upon  a  rock  close  by  the  door, 
Where,  flapping  hung  the  braided  mat 
Before  the  lodge  upon  the  shore. 
The  swaying  mat  was  flung  aside — 
Emerging  from  the  doorway  low 
There  came  a  maid  dressed  as  a  bride. 
And  thoughtful  was  her  step,  and  slow. 
The  beaded  garments  that  she  wore 
Were  made  of  choicest  skins  of  doe, 
Embroidered  with  the  grace  of  yore, 
And  bleached  as  white  as  drifted  snow. 
The  sea  gulls  skimmed  across  the  tide, 
Then  turned  and  circled  high  in  air, 
Before  they  fluttered  to  her  side 
To  nestle  in  her  neck  and  hair. 


LEGENDS. 

"Ah,  sea  birds  mine,  I  have  you  fast! 
Will  you  seek  out  my  new  home  tree — 
Or,  will  you  wander  free  at  last, 
Far  out  upon  the  changing  sea? 
Tell — will  mine  be  a  happy  lot? 
Can  you  birds   of  the  wild  deep  say? 
Or  shall  I  long  for  this  dear  spot, 
When  I  have  journeyed  far  away? 
You  shall  to  me  the  secret  give. 
Now,  from  my  shoulder  skim  the  deep, 
And  I  shall  ever  happy  live 
If  you,  my  pets,  together  keep! 
Now,  let  not  one  the  other  leave, 
Fly  east,  or  west,  o'er  shore  or  tide — 
Stay  close  together  or  I  grieve- 
There,  go!     Why  hover  at  my  side?" 
They  circled  slow  on  graceful  wing; 
They  flew  afar  across  the  blue; 
Then  to  the  wave  they  seemed  to  cling, 
But  ever  close  together  flew. 
Then,  rising,  they  would  swiftly  dip, 
And  turning  they  would  clip  once  more— 
Before  they  flew,  wings  tip  to  tip, 
Back  to  the  maid  upon  the  shore. 
She  held  them  close;  she  kissed  their  breasts 
Bejeweled  with  the  dewy  tide, 
And  failed  to  see  the  groom  and  guests 
Until  they  waited  at  her  side. 
Nine  sisters  had  Oweenie  fair, 
Who  each  a  brave  young  chief  had  wed; 
And  as  they  all  stood  smiling  there 
Each  to  the  other  bent  her  head. 
For  envy  rankled  in  each  breast 
Against  this  sister  fair  and  sweet — 


'4. 


THE  ENCHANTED  ISLAND. 

Had  not  their  husbands  with  the  rest 

First  groveled  at  her  dainty  feet? 

Oweenie,  queen  of  all  that  shore, 

In  beauty  rare,  and  artless  grace, 

Had  lovers  counted  by  the  score. 

Who  brought  her  trophies  of  the  chase. 

But  from  them  all  she  coldly  turned — 

From  lover  shy  and  hunter  bold, 

And  one  and  all  she  kindly  spurned 

To  wed  Osseo,  bent  and  old. 

They  went  along  the  shell-strewn  sand 

To  where,  within  a  tiny  bay, 

Were  anchored  close  beside  the  strand. 

Of  birch  canoes  a  grand  array. 

As  Osseo  came  slowly  on 

He  upward  gazed  with  yearning  eye, 

As  though  the  Evening  Star  to  con 

That  glowing  hung  low  in  the  sky. 

At  last  was  filled  each  birch-made  boat 

With  stalwart  men  and  women  fair; 

And,  light  as  mist,  they  seemed  to  float 

Among  the  lilies  clustered  there. 

Down  through  those  waters  pure  and  deep. 

And  mirrored  clear,  there  came  to  view. 

Our  own  land  in  her  virgin  sleep; 

Low  down  beneath  the  rippling  blue. 

They  paddled  o'er  the  waters  far, 

To  where  a  lone  lodge  met  their  gaze, 

Directly  'neath  the  Evening  Star, 

That  on  it  shed  its  lambent  rays. 

It  rested  on  a  tiny  reef, 

And  round  its  doorway  flowers  sweet 

Of  gayest  hue  and  varied  leaf 

A  carpet  wove  to  meet  their  feet. 


LEGENDS. 

The  boats  were  anchored  on  the  shore; 
The  old  man  took  Oweenie's  hand 
With, — "Welcome  to  your  new  lodge  door, 
And  to  this  spot — your  husband's  land." 
Within  a  bounteous  feast  was  spread, 


A  banquet  laid  for  all  the  throng; 
While  faint,  and  far  from  overhead 
Came  music  like  a  distant  song. 
When  at  the  board  they  took  their  place 
They  marveled  at  the  dainty  fare. 
And  wonder  grew  upon  each  face 


16 


THE  ENCHANTED  ISLAND. 

As  clearer  came  the  music  rare. 

Then  spoke  Osseo  from  his  seat, 

The  while  his  eyes  were  cast  afar,— 

"All  quaff  a-deep  for  my  bride  sweet, 

Oweenie,  and  the  Evening  Star." 

The  drink   a  wild  enchantment  gave, 

But  emptied  soon  was  every  cup; 

And  though  it  held  them  like  a  slave 

They  drained  it  to  its  final  sup. 

Oweenie  gazed  at  Osseo — 

She  saw  a  strange  change  cross  his  face,— 

Saw  line  by  line  the  old  age  go, 

And  youth  and  beauty  take  their  place. 

Still  brighter  grew  the  starry  ray 

And  with  it  came  a  message  strange: — 

"You  shall  be  fairies  from  to-day; 

The  spell  is  cast;  behold  the  change! 

The  lodge  is  rising, — have  no  fear. 

Shattered  is  all  the  evil  spell. 

Now  all  is  well,  the  land  is  near 

Where  you,  my  children,  are  to  dwell." 

Both  bride  and  bridegroom  heard  the  words 

And,  as  they  ceased,  they  turned  to  find 

Their  guests  transformed  to  flitting  birds 

Of  varied  plumage,  size  and  kind. 

The  lodge  began  to  turn  and  rise, 

And  slowly  lifted  from  the  strand 

Up  toward  the  region  of  the  skies, 

And  left  the  tiny  reef  of  land. 

As  thistle  down  it  seemed  to  float; 

The  lodge  poles  turned  to  golden  wire; 

The  birds  all  joined  with  swelling  throat. 

A  happy,  care-free,  feathered  choir. 

At  last  upon  the  starry  plains 


LEGENDS. 


They  drifted  'midst  the  music  wild 

Of  captive  songsters  blithesome  strains. 

A  voice  then  said, — "My  well-loved  child, 

Hang  there  the  cage  of  singing  birds; 

They  mortal  shapes  shall  ne'er  resume; 

They  mocked  your  plight  with  sneering  words, 

From  henceforth  they  their  crests  may   plume. 

Within  this  land  there's  naught  to  dread 

Save  that  lone  star  whose  evil  spell 

Was  cast  upon  your  youthful  head, 

When  you,  its  victim,  downward  tell." 

The  seasons  passed,  and  to  the  pair 

In  that  bright  land,  a  son  was  born; 

With  flashing  eyes  and  tawny  hair 

And  face  as  radiant  as  the  morn. 

His  father  made  for  him  a  bow, 

And  fashioned  it  with  art  and  skill; 

Rut,  there  was  neither  game  nor  foe 

Within  that  realm  to  hunt  or  kill. 

So  opening  the  gilded  cage 

He  freedom  gave  the  captive  band, 

That  darting  through  the  foliage 

Rejoicing  flew  on  every  hand. 

With  well-taught  aim  the  archer  gay 

An  arrow  sent  with  studied  art; 

It  sped,  too  true,  upon  its  way, 

And  pierced  a  songster  through  the  heart. 

And  as  the  blood  dropped  on  the  sand 

It  banished  all  the  magic  speil; 

And,  one  by  one,  they  left  the  land 

That  seemed  receding  as  they  fell. 

Swift,  and  swifter  grew  their  flight 

Through  regions  of  the  clouds  and  air! 


18 


THE  ENCHANTED  ISLAND. 

They  missed  the  road  of  "Northern  Light,' 

And  downward  sped,  they  knew  not  where! 

They  reached  at  last  the  "Spirit  Road," 

The  bright  and  shining  milky  way 

That  upward  led  to  fair  abode. 

But  still  their  course  they  could  not  stay! 

At  last  below  there  came  in  sight. 

A  waste  of  waters,  far  and  wide, 

Where  flitting  sped  two  sea  gulls  white 

Close  skimming  by  each  other's  side. 

And  then  a  tumult  stirred  the  waves — 

A  moving  object  in  the  blue — 

And,  rising  slow,  from  hidden  caves, 

A  monster  turtle  came  in  view; 

And,  drifting  high  it  resting  lay 

Surrounded  by  the  waters  deep; 

And  there  it  floating  lies  to-day. 

The  "Turtle  Island"  still  asleep. 

Here  landed  all  the  fairy  train 

That  fell  adown  the  "Spirit  Road," 

And  here  contented  they  remain, 

For  they  made  this  their  charmed  abode. 

The  sea  gulls'  flight  'tis  said  was  true, 

For  still  they  dance  and  sing  each  night 

When  moon  and  stars  in  waters  blue 

Reflect  their  rays  in  dreamy  light. 

The  birds  sing  while  the  fairies  sleep. 

The  daylight  hours  they  thus  beguile, 

On  the  turtle  lying  in  the  deep, 

The  fair  "Enchanted  Northern  Isle." 


PAST  AND  PRESENT. 


She  walked  along  a  winding   trail 
With    free   and   lithesome  tread. 
Beside  the  way  grew  a  daisy  pale 
With  dainty  sun -crowned  head. 
She  did  not  know  it  told  the  tale 
Of  a  maid  that  was  to  come — 
With  hair  of  gold  and  a  face  so  pale, 
Who  would  o'er  the  Island  roam. 


The  seasons  passed  and  the  other  maid 
Strolled  along  a  wide  road-bed; 
When,  nodding  bright,  in  a  pine-tree's 

shade 

She  espied  a  lily  red: 
It  told  her  not  with  its  dusky  glow 
Of  the  maid  of  other  days — 
Who  followed  the  trail  so  long  ago 
Through  all  the  deep  by-ways. 


THE  WISHING  WELL. 


WAS  in  the  distant   Northland 

Where     the    "Sweet-Sea-Waters" 

flow. 

That  there  dwelt  an  ancient  proph 
etess 

In  her  wigwam,  long  ago. 
Deep  stood  her  lodge  in  the  shadows 
'Neath     the     pine     trees'     sombre 

shade ; 

To  the  braves,  she  was  a  councillor, 
And    brewed  love   charms    for    the 
maid. 


It  was  at  the  close  of  summer, 

And  while  darksome  stood  the  pines, 
The  gay  trailing  robes  of  autumn 

Lay  on  shrubs  and  clinging  vines. 
Beside  her  lone  gleaming  camp-fire, 

Where  the  glowing  embers  lay, 
In  her  wigwam  knelt  the  sorceress 

On  the  eve  of  this  autumn  day. 

Without  was  the  dark  night  silent, 

Save  an  insect's  chirping  cry. 
Or  the  call  of  ko-ko-ho-ho 

As  he  slowly  fluttered  by  ; 
While  within,  upon  a  bear  skin, 

By  the  lodge  fire's  ruddy  glow, 
Knelt  Moned  Kway  the  prophetess, 

Slowlv  swaying  to  and  fro. 


LEGENDS 

But  the  insect's  cry  was  silenced, 

And  the  night  bird's  call  was  still. 
As  a  twig  was  snapped  asunder 

On  the  footpath  down  the  hill; 
Then,  a  ray  of  light  shot  outward 

Piercing  deep  the  shadows  dim, 
As  a  maiden  entered  the  wigwam 

Of  the  prophetess  so  grim. 


She  stood  in  the  ruddy  firelight, 

And  poised  as  though  seeking  flight 
To  the  thickly  gathered  darkness 

That  lay  in  the  outer  night 
On  the  coals  a  charm  was  brewing, 

As  the  conjuress  chanted  slow. 
"I  am  here  as  you  bid,  Oh  Noko!" 

Said  the  maiden  speaking  low. 


THE    WISHING    WELL. 

"Ah  yes,  you  have  come,  Awanda, 

As  I  bid,  one  moon  ago; 
Now  kneel  on  this  robe  of  magic, 

This  bear-skin  as  white  as  snow. 
Kneel  there  while  I  brew  the  potion 

That  will  bring  you  love  and  power; 
Thou  shalt  see  a  noble  warrior 

At  to-morrow's  sunset  hour!' 

They  knelt  on  the  skin  of  magic. 

Till  at  last  the  charm  was  done. 
Then  thus    spoke  the  ancient  prophetess 

"To-morrow,  at  set  of  sun, 
Seek  thou  the  'Enchanted  Island' 

That  lies  out  there  in  the  sea, 
Then,  if  thou  follow  my  bidding, 

A  lover  will  come  to  thee. " 


So  when  next  the  sun  sank  lower, 
And  crimsoned  all  of  the  west, 

A  canoe  shot  o'er  the  waters, 
With  a  maid  upon  whose  breast 

Lay  the  potion  of  the  sorceress— 


LEGENDS. 

The  charm  of  old  Moned  Kway:  — 
She  paddled  across  the  waters 
Where  the  "Magic  Island"  Jay. 

At  that  very  hour,  a  warrior 

From  a  distant  noble  band, 
Walked  over  an  unknown  Island 

Far  to  Southward  from  his  land. 
And,  just  as  the  sun  was  sinking, 

He  let  swift  an  arrow  fly, 
And  shaped  his  course  with  the  arrow's 

As  it  cleft  the  crims'ning  sky. 

He  walked  through  bright  groves  of  beauty 

Where  leaves  fluttered  gaily  by, 
He  searched  out  the  hidden  songster 

With  a  glance  of  piercing  eye. 
On,  ever  on,  he  still  wandered, 

Led  thus,  by  some  unknown  spell, 
Till,  near  the  shore  of  the  Island 

He  came  to  a  Crystal  Well. 

On  the  brink  a  maid  was  kneeling 

His  arrow  lay  at  her  side; 
And  he  heard  her  softly  murmur 

"Oh,  Well — in  thy  sparkling  tide 
I  will  pour  my  precious  potion — 

May  my  wishes  granted  be, 
That  here  in  thy  limpid  waters 

My  own  warrior's  face  I  see!" 

Then  into  the  Well  of  Crystal, 

Fell  the  drops  of  deepest  blue, 
From  the  hand  so  lithe  and  slender, 


-t 


THE    WISHING    WELL. 

Of  a  dusky,  tawny  hue. 
All  the  glancing  birds  were  silent 

And  the  falling  drops  he  heard — 
For  a  moment  wid'ning  circles 

In  the  mystic  depths  were  stirred. 

He  looked  in  the  shining  waters 

For  her  lover  mirrored  there; 
But  he  saw  her  face  of  sweetness 

Framed  deep  in  her  raven  hair. 
She  beheld  his  dark  face  glancing, 

Completing  the  magic  spell! 
And  thus  the  spot  gained  its  title 

Of  "The  Island's  Wishing  Well." 


ROBINSON'S  FOLLY. 


When  puckwees  roamed  the  tangle  of  the  forest 

Arid  all  the  day  birds  fluttered  out  of  sight; 
When  Michilimackinac  began  to  lie  in  shadow, 

And  the  dews  falling,  whispered  of  the  night; 
When  Man-i-to  the  Mighty  came  from  seaward 

To  land  upon  the  Isle  at  set  of  sun  — 
Then,  from  the  old  rugged  fort  on  the  headland, 

Walked  Robinson  as  boomed  the  sunset  gun. 


He  stepped  forth  and  took  a  trail  to  the  westward, 

And  walked  as  o'er  a  well  remembered  road; 
Going  swiftly  till  he  came  to  a  wigwam 

Made  of  birch,  where  a  camp-fire  glowed. 
A  vision  flitted  toward  him  in  the  shadows, 

A  maiden  clad  in  skins  and  breasts  of  birds, 
A  daughter  of  the  Red  Chief  of  the  forest 

How  she  drank  in  the  nectar  of  his  words. 


ROB  INS  0  A' '  S  F07.L1 '. 

And,  there  sitting  hand  in-hand  by  the  camp-fire, 

He  told  all  his  love  for  her  anew; 
How  he'd  build  them  a  wigwam  of  deer  skins, 

On  the  highland  where  the  tamarack  grew. 
Thus  he  sat  there  and  told  her  of  the  future. 

The  story  lending  magic  to  the  place, 
The  blazing  camp  fire  lighting  up  the  thicket, 

And  resting  on  her  trusting,  dusky  face. 


He  told  her  he  must  travel  to  the  Southward, 

Calming  all  of  her  silent  grief  away: — 
Morning  came,  and  he  sailed  o'er  the  waters, 

And  was  gone  many  a  long  and  weary  day. 
When  his  vessel  came  again  to  the  landing, 

She  was  standing  on  the  high  cliff  alone: 
But  his  white  youthful  bride  was  beside  him, 

And  she  waited  as  if  turned  into  stone. 


27 


LEGENDS. 

But  he  built  for  her  the  wigwam  of  deer  skins 

On  the  headland  overhanging  the  sea, 
That  murmured  forever  its  sad  sweet  song 

in  a  chorus  with  the  tamarack  tree. 
But  she  roamed  like  some  haunted  restless  spirit 

The  dense  woods,  and  the  deep  tangles  through, 
When  the  moon  went  sailing  high  in  the  heavens, 

And  the  leaves  were  all  dampened  with  the  dew 


Thus,  she  met  him  one  evening  in  the  shadows, 

As  he  took  the  new  pathway  down  the  steep; 
And  she  pleaded  with  wild  love  and  abandon, 

That  he  one  of  their  old  trysts  would  keep. 
Then  she  would  leave  Michilimackinac  forever, 

And  journey  far  to  Northward  with  her  tiibe; 
She  embraced  him  and  besought  him  so  madly 

That  he  promised  and  accepted  her  bribe. 


28 


ROBINSON'S  FOLLT. 

The  night  came,  and  with  it  came  a  tempest, 

The  forest  shook  and  quivered  in  the  blast, 
The  lightning  cleft  the  darkness  like  a  dagger, 

The  thunder  rolled,  like  cannon,  thick  and  fast. 
And  Robinson  went  slowly  up  the  incline, 

Toward  the  headland  that  overhung  the  sea; 
Went  along  like  a  spectre  in  the  darkness, 

And  paused  beneath  the  tamarack  tree. 

Then  the  wigwam  flap  was  slightly  lifted 

As  by  the  restless  sporting  of  the  storm; 
And  he  called  her  name  softly  in  the  darkness, 

Which  jealously  concealed  her  nut-brown  form. 
As  there  came  a  vivid  flash  from  the  westward, 

Followed  closely  by  an  awtul  rending  shock, 
He  saw  her  sitting  'bove  the  wild  sea  beneath 

On  the  brink  of  the  over-hanging  rock. 

Her  black  loosened  hair  was  wildly  streaming, 

A  love  light  shining  madly  in  her  eyes; 
Her  bare  arms  were  out-thrown  for  embracing, 

He  saw  when  the  lightning  rent  the  skies. 
He  rushed  madly  toward  the  bluff — perhaps  to  save  her, 

As  the  storm  shook  the  Island  with  its  shock! 
She  clasped  him  tight  round  the  neck  'midst  her  kisses 

And  with  him  plunged  headlong  from  the  rock! 

As  the  tempest  died  away  toward  the  eastward, 

The  morning  came  with  sunshine  for  the  land. 
Do  ye  hold  them  close,  oh  restless  billows? 

Or  are  they  sleeping  on  the  damp  sea  sand? 
They  searched  the  wild  waters,  and  the  mainland, 

And  they  traced  all  the  rugged  Island  shore, 
But  Robinson  and  the  Indian  maiden 

Have  never  been  heard  of  more. 


29 


SNOW  ISLANDS. 


X  a  point  of  the  wood  where  the  trees  thickly 

clustered, 
There  stood  a  lone  lodge  high  up  from  the 

shore ; 
Around    its   low   doorway   the    winter    winds 

blustered. 
While  ice  fields  muffled  the  loud   breaker's 

roar. 
The  sharp  blinding  snow  came  in  flakes  fine 

as  powder, 

And  tossed  by  the  wind  it  drifted  up  high; 
Pe-bo-an,  the  Cold  god,  raged  fiercer  and  louder, 
Mantling  the  landscape  and  hiding  the  sky. 


SNOW  ISLANDS. 

The  snow  drifts  piled  deep  round  the  lodge  on  the  high 
land, 

And  sifted  through  cracks  to  the  earthen  floor; 
The  cold  was  intense  on  Michilimackinac  Island; 

It  entered  the  lodge  through  the  low  bear  skin  door 
And  strove  to  extinguish  the  tire  burning  brightly, 

But  it  only  leapt  upward  to  ruddier  glow. 
Here  gathered  the  household  of  Wawatum  nightly 

While  trees  cracking  with  frost,  swayed  to  and  fro. 

For  days  had  Wawatum  through  snow  that  was  blinding, 

Gone  to  his  traps  vainly  seeking  for  food; 
And,  tramping  till  weary,  but  empty  snares  finding, 

Would   take   his   way   home  through    white    pathless 

wood. 
For  days  had  he  sought  through  the  ice  crystal    towers, 

To  see  if  a  fish  had  strayed  into  some  net, 
Where  through  holes  in   the   ice    'midst   frost-fashioned 
bowers 

His  nets  clever  woven  he  deftly  had  set. 

Thus  he,  day  after  day,  no  fish  or  food  bringing, 

Would  seek  his  lone  lodge  and  little  bronze  brood, 
Who  close  round   his  knees   would    come  climbing  and 
clinging, 

All  vainly  clamouring  after  their  food. 
He  noted  the  embers  lay  glowing  for  roasting, 

Placed  by  the  mother  for  fish  or  for  game; 
He  stood  thoughtful  among  them  no   trophy   boasting; 

Thus  hunger,  silent,  and  stealthily  came. 

He  took  off  his  snow  shoes;  he  threw  on  fresh  fuel; 

And  gathered  his  small  brown  children  around  ; 
Then  to  make  them  forgetful  of  hunger  so  cruel, 


LEGENDS. 

He  told  them  tales  as  they  sat  on  the  ground. 
Each  dark  little  face  would  then  slowly  grow  brighter 

As  he  told  them  about  the  robin  red; 
The  lodge  fire  leapt  higher,  the  wigwam  grew  lighter 

And  winds  swept  high  in  the  trees  overhead. 

He  told  how  I-a-dil-la,  a  youth  of  great  beauty, 

Was  forced  by  his  father  a  long  fast  to  take; 
How  for  twelve  weary  days — as  was  a  son's  duty, 

Not  once  in  the  time  his  fast  did  he  break. 
How  his  father  then  sought  him  dainty  food  bringing, 

And  found  him  painting  his  breast  a  bright  red, 
Ere  he  swiftly  took  flight,  in  gay  freedom  winging, 

And  he,  the  first  robin,  sang  overhead. 

He  told  that  the  raven  had  once  in  its  beauty 

Been  white  as  the  snow  drifts  out  in  the  night; 
But  for  evil  deeds  and  neglect  of  his  duty, 

Black  grew  his  beautiful  plumage  of  white; 
For  he  was  captured,  was  this  fellow  so  craven. 

And  securely  bound  in  a  hollow  tree, 
And  smoked,  and  smoked,  was  this  white  saucy   raven, 

Till  he  was  the  blackest  bird  they  could  see. 

Told  how  Man-i-boz-ho,  who  once  illy  faring 

At  the  hands  of  evil  Man-i-to, 
Was  helped  by  the  wood-bird  with  greatest  daring 

And  together  they  slew  the  evil  foe. 
And  with  the  red  blood  of  the  Man-i-to  flowing 

Man-i-boz-ho  painted  the  wood-bird's  head; 
And  ever  since  that  day,  so  gaudily  glowing, 

The  wood-pecker's  head  has  been  flaming  red. 

The  children  sat  silent;  the  embers  sank  lower — 
He  told  them  of  Weeng,  the  small  god  of  Sleep; 


SNOW  ISLANDS. 

The  dark  mother  swayed  the  papoose  ever  slower, 
That  swinging  smiled  in  its  slumbering  deep. 

He  told  them  how  Weeng  at  that  moment  was  creeping 
And  tapping,  tapping,  on  each  little  head; 

And  thus  they  forgot  all  their  hunger  in  sleeping 
And  warmiv  were  tucked  in  their  deer  skin  bed. 


At  last  a  morn  came  when  the  snow  had  ceased  falling, 

But  was  drifted  high  round  wigwam  and  tree; 
And  it  seemed  to  Wawatum  he  heard  a  Voice  calling 

'Mong  the  castles  of  ice  that  covered  the  sea. 
So  donning  his  snow  shoes  he  silently  followed 

Down  the  steep  hill  in  the  fresh  morning  air; 
Down    where  the    snow    drifts    were    swept    out    and 
hollowed, 

He  walked  toward  the  crystalized  city  fair. 

On,  he  went  through  the  transparent  glimmer, 

Where  ice-gems  hung  from  the  mimic  frost  trees; 
Where  pinnacles  towered  and  frost  flowers   shimmered, 

He  followed  the  call  that  came  on  the  breeze. 
The  sun  rising  lit  up  the  turrets  and  towers 

With  lilac,  and  orange,  and  crimson,  and  gold; 
There  were  mountains  of  glass,  and  valleys,  and  bowers; 

Far  stretched  this  beautiful  city  of  Cold. 

After  long  weary  miles  he  reached  icy  highlands, 

And  henrd  the  strange  Voice  ring  out  overhead — 
"I,  the  lone  ruler  of  the  Les  Chenaux  Islands, 

Bid  thee  to  hearken!"  the  hidden  voice  said. 
Wawatum  obeying,  sank  kneeling  and  listened 

To  the  Voice  that  rang  on  the  morning  air, 
While  round  in  the  sun  rays  glimmered  and  glistened 

The  wide  spreading  Frost-land  so  gorgeous  and  fair. 


LEGENDS. 

' '  Wawatum,  Wawatum — put  down  thy  mush-ke-moots  ;— 

Obey,  and  thou  shalt  have  plentiful  store; 
Down  at  thy  side  where  the  tall  crystal  pillar  shoots 

And  fill  them  with  ice  from  the  transparent  floor; 
And  thou  shalt  have  fish  from  the  caverns  deep-hidden, 

Where  muscalonge,  trout,  and  pickerel  are  found. 
Wawatum,  Wawatum,  now  do  as  I've  bidden!" 

"Wawatum,  Wawatum"  echoed  around. 

The  great  sacks  were  filled  with  the  ice  hard  as  boulders, 

All  now  was  silent,  the  echoes  had  died; 
But  Wawatum  stood  list'ning  ere  to  his  shoulders 

He  lifted  the  sacks  that  stood  by  his  side. 
"Wawatum — now  hearken — as  home  you  go  weary, 

And  heavily  burdened  with  your  great  load, 
The  way  that  was  light  will  seem  sombre  and  dreary; 

Voices  of  evil  will  follow  your  road. 

"But  go  on  unheeding;   'tis  but  the  wind  sighing; 

And  as  you  travel  the  long  homeward  track, 
Keep  ever  straight  forward,  nor  list  to  their  crying; 

Remember,  Wawatum,  to  never  look  back. 
Now  hasten,  Wawatum;  there  is  danger  in   staying; 

In  the  sacks  close-filled  will  plenty  be  found; 
Hasten,  Wawatum — never  falling  nor  straying." 

"Hasten,  Wawatum;"  then  came  back  the  sound. 

Wawatum  went  onward,  his  heavy  load  bearing, 

Toward  home  far  away  on  the  "Turtle  Isle"  ; 
And  as  he  went  forward  ne'er  heeding  nor  caring; 

Voices  of  evil  assailed  him  the  while. 
The  bright  sun  was  hidden,  and  gone  was  the  glisten; 

Strange  whispers  there  were  most  dismal  to  hear; 
The  shadows  grew  deeper;  he  could  not  but  listen 

To  sounds  of  anger  that  fell  on  his  ear. 


34 


SNOW  ISLANDS. 

The  Ice  City  shook;  he  rushed  on  nearly  falling; 

On,  ever  on,  o'er  the  long  homeward  track; 
There   were   sounds   like   thunder,    and   strange    voices 
calling! 

He  had  to  leap  many  widening  crack! 
The  pinnacles  seemed  to  be  moving  and  swaying! 

On,  on  he  sped  toward  the  "Big  Turtle's"  shore; 
It  seemed  that  the  winds  were  intent  on  his  slaying 

So  wild  their  storming  with  buffet  and  roar. 

Why  wrathful  the   North   Wind   that  rules   the   White 
Region — 

Kab-bib-bon-o-ka,  the  North  Wind  bold? 
Now  hark!   From  the  Southward  the  voices  are   legion; 

The  South  Wind  is  coming  to  battle  the  Cold. 
On  comes  Sha-won-das-see!  The  discord  increases! 

The  castles  and  turrets  crumble  and  crack! 
The  Wind  battle  rages;  the  tumult  ne'er  ceases! 

On  flies  Wawatum,  not  once  looking  back! 

At  last  in  the  distance,  his  own  Island  seeing, 

He  hastening  onward  reaches  the  shore: 
Like  demons  pursuing  a  foe  that  is  fleeing, 

The  cries  of  the  Wind  rulers  shriek  on  the  more! 
Then  pausing  in  safety,  a  backward  glance  taking, 

He  sees  the  Old  South  Wind  gain  on  the  foe; 
Sees  the  City  of  Crystal  falling  and  breaking; 

Then  sees  it  move  seaward  silent  and  slow. 

There  was  feasting  that  night  in  Wawatum's  dwelling 
From  fish  in  the  bags — a  bountiful  store; 


35 


LEGENDS. 


But  they  paused  to  listen — he  of  ice  floes  telling, 

And  the  Voice  he  heard  on  the  Snow  Island's  shore. 

The  North  Wind  was  conquered — the  South  Wind   was 

master- 
Vanished  all  hunger  and  hardship  and  snow; 

And  Wawatum  thankfully  saved  from  disaster, 
Remembered  the  Voice  on  the  Les  Chenaux. 


FAIRY  ARCH  AND  THE  GIANT'S  STAIR. 


An  Arch  in  the  rock  on  an  Island 

enchanted, 
Where    gee-bies    meet    nightly 

and  dance  hand  in  hand; 
It  cannot  be  seen  from  the  high 

cliffs  above  it ; 
'Tis  hidden  from  sight  as  you 

walk  on  the  sand. 
This    home    of    the     fairies    'mid 

cedar  and  pine, 
Is  a  rift  in  the  rock,    all   draped 

with  the  vine. 

Here  they  guard  the  great  Stair 
way  that  passes  their  door — 
The  long  "Giant  Stair"  leading 

up  from  the  shore. 
As  fishers  pass  home  with  their  boats  in  the  night, 
They  have  oft'  seen  them  dance  in  the  pale  moon-light. 

The  giant  Unk-ta-hee  with  storm  seeks  the  landing, 

And  tries  amidst  tempests  the  high  cliffs  to  reach; 
But  fairies  above  in  their  grotto  are  watching 

To  drive  this  old  ruler  safe  back  to  the  beach; 
For,  if  he  once  reaches  the  top  of  his  Stair,' 
He  will  claim  for  his  kingdom  this  Island  so  fair; 
He'll  drag  her,  his  captive,  'neath  waters  so  deep, 
And  there  he  will  hold  her,  forever  asleep. 
So  the  fairies  are  ever  guarding  her  there, 
In  the  rift  at  the  foot  of  the  "Giant  Stair." 


37 


LEGENDS. 


Unk-ta-hee,  the   ruler   of   all    the   great 

waters. 

This  Island  once  held  in  the  cool  lim 
pid  deep; 
But  a  great  turtle  rose  with  it   on   his 

shoulder 
One  day  when  Unk-ta-hee  lay  calmly 

asleep. 
Arose  in  the  midst  of  the  "Sweet   Sea 

Waters," 
With  the  fairest  of  all   old  Unk-ta-hee's 

daughters, 
As  she  rose  from  the  deep,   he  woke  in 

his  wrath, 

And  twisted  trees  and  rocks  in  his  rush 
ing  path; 

Then  he  tore  out  the  steps  of  the  "Giant's  Stair" 
Over  which  to  recover  his  Island  fair. 


When  dew-drops  are  falling  and  stars  are  a-twinkle, 

And  Unk-ta-hee  slumbers  with  scarcely  a  sigh, 
Then  the  gee-bies,  the  puck-wees  and  in-in-ees  frolic 

And  dance  'neath  the  Arch  when  the  moon  sails  high. 
But  when  he  awakens  with  rush  and  with  loar, 
With  help  of  Key-bey-un  to  buffet  the  shore; 
Key-bey- un  the  sire  of  the  Four  Winds  strong— 
The  lightning,  Ge-bang-ge-mon,  bringing  along, 
Then  the  moon  slips  under  the  clouds  in  affright, 
And  sounds  of  the  tempest  ring  out  on  the  night. 

As  Unk-ta-hee  mounts  up  the  rock-fashioned  Stairway, 
The  sprites  open  a  cave  deep  hidden  from  sight, 

Where,  stored  by  the  in-in-ees,  puck-wees  and  gee-bies. 
Is  a  treasure  of  burrs  from  the  pine  tree  white. 


FAIRT  ARCH  AND   THE  GTANTS  STAIR. 

Then  the  strongest  among  them  all  pelt  him  sore 
As  he  strives  to  rush  high  from  the  rocky  shore; 
They  carefully  aim  for  his  white  foamy  crest, 
And  of  all  known  weapons  white  pine  burrs  are  best 
They  aim  for  his  crest — his  vulnerable  spot, 
And  until  he  is  conquered  they  weary  not. 


Key-bey-un  surrenders,  the  keen  lightning  follows, 

And  Unk-ta-hee  cowers  a  poor  beaten  thing; 
The  fairies  have  driven  him  back  to  his  kingdom 

With  none  to  caress,  but  the  fleet  sea-bird's  wing. 
Then  should  you  go  silent  along  the  wet  sand, 
You'll  hear  their  gay  song  as  they  dance  hand  in  hand; 
You'll  hear  dainty  music,  soft  tinkle  and  swell 
From  the  "Arch"  in  the  rock  where  the  gee-bies  dwell. 
If  you  pause  by  the  "Stairway"  passing  their  door, 
You  may  hear  their  words  floating  down  to  the  shore. 

We  come  by  the  light  of  the  fire-fly's  lamp — 

We  the  fairy  band; 
When  we  hear  the  beat  of  the  wood-tick's  drum, 

To  guard  this  enchanted  land. 


39 


LEGENDS. 


FA  IRT  ARCH  A  ND    THE   GIA  N  T>  S  S  TA  lit. 

We  come  from  the  East,  the  North,  the  South, 

We  the  fairies  small. 
When  the  moonbeams  glance,  and  the  stars  peep  out, 

And  the  night  birds  lonely  call. 

Some  come  o'er  the  tide  from  their  caves  of  pearl, 

In  a  tinted  shell ; 
Some  woke  from  their  dreams  in  a  cobweb  swing, 

And  some  in  a  lily  bell. 
Some  come  from  the  groves  of  Main-to-wak, 

Hid  in  shadows  dim; 
Where  they  slept  all  day  on  the  tufted  moss 

'Neath  a  tall  fern's  bending  limb. 

We  put  on  our  armour — the  pinch- bug's  shell, 

We  donned  our  shields  so  small, 
And  each  took  a  lance  tipped  with  honey-bees'  stings, 

And  answered  the  wood-tick's  call. 
We  put  on  our  helmets — the  acorn's  cup 

And  quickly  flew  away, 
To  dance  and  sing  in  the  "Fairy  Arch" 

Till  the  dawning  of  the  day. 

Our  Sleep  god  Weeng  bids  all  creatures  rest, 

We  our  guard  will  keep, 
'Neath  the  "Giant  Stair"  of  the  "Fairy  Isle" 

While  all  mortals  sweetly  sleep. 
We  come  by  the  light  of  the  fire-fly's  lamp— 

We  the  fairy  band ; 
When  we  hear  the  beat  of  the  wood-tick's  drum, 

To  guard  this  enchanted  land. 


THE  FOUR  WINDS. 


I  know  an  Island  beautiful,  that,  like  a  jeweled  pin 
Binds    the    Northern     Lakes    together    as    the    robe 
mandarin. 


of 


\- 


THE  FOUR    WINDS. 

I  know  its  rugged  headlands,  and  T  know  its  wooded  wiles 
Where  the  perfume  of  the  forest  the  shaded  path  beguiles. 
I  know  each  height  and  cavern,  where  an  old  time  legend 

sleeps, 
I  know  the  winding  pebbled    shore    where    shifting    wind 

gust  sweeps. 

I  know  that  on  this  Island  fair,  the  breezes   always  blow, 
From  north,  or  south,  or  east,  or  west,  like   welkin    over 
flow  ; 

And  I'll  tell  to  you  the  reason  why  they  never  are  at  rest, 
But  speed,  with  quickly  changing  course,  across  the 

Island's  breast; 
For  perchance,  you  may  have  wondered  at  their  frolic  or 

their  sweep, 

As  they  toyed  with   you  or   buffeted,    on   headland,  shore 
or  steep. 

"Tis  said  that  every  Northern  Lake  is  ruled   by    Monarch 

bold, 
Who,  high  above  his  watery  realm,  lives  throned  in  clouds 

of  gold ; 
While  in  the  balmy  Southland,  the  lagoons  and   sweeping 

bay 

Are  ruled  by  another  Monarch  who  holds  dynastic  sway: 
And  these  Rulers  are    all  brothers — Key-bey-un    is   their 

sire, 
And,    like    to    Rulers    here    below,  new    realms   are  their 

desire. 

So  forth  one  hurls  a  mighty  weight  through  another's  fair 

abode, 
Who  grasps  it  firmly  as    it   flies   and   returns  the  rasping 

goad. 


43 


LEGENDS. 

'Tis  caught  again,  and  thrown  with  skill  to  the  South 
lands  far  away 

Where  the  Southern  Ruler  languid  lies  above  his  sleep 
ing  bay ; 

He,  rising,  blows  with  ardent  breath,  and  back  the  missile 
sweeps, 

Then  dropping  down  in  cloud-made  couch,  again  he 
soundly  sleeps. 

Thus,  back  and  forth,  from   north   to  south,  and   east   to 

west,  the  fray 

vSweeps  ever  above  the  Island  that  lies  beneath  the  way; 
The  gem  that  binds  the  Northern  Lakes  of  the   brothers' 

fair  domain, 
And  catches -the  breath  of  missiles  within   the  cloud-made 

plain, 

And  I  know  no  fairer  spot  than  this-  Isle  like  a  jeweled  pin 
That  binds  the  Lakes  together  as  the  robe  of  a  mandarin. 


M 


THE  SKELETON  ON  THE  STAIR. 


Scenting  the  breath  of  the  fresh  morning 

breeze 

That  'mongst  the  branches  plays, 
Comes  the  spicy  odor  of  dark  pine  trees 
Through  all  the  cool  byways. 
Another  breath — I  pause  beside  an  oak 
As  borne  on  the  air  conies  a  whiff  of  smoke. 

I  part  the  leaves,  and  to  my  searching  gaze 

Appears  a  red  man,  old, 

And   through    the    calumet's    dim    smoky 

haze, 

His  keen  eyes  I  behold 

Fixed  on  me.  He  sits  on  the  headland  where 
Falling  cliff  on  cliff  is  the  "Giant's  Stair." 


I  join  this  scior.  of  a  vanished  type, 

With  withered  face  so  brown; 

And  wreaths  curl  up  from  his  queer  red  pipe, 

There  on  the  Island's  crown. 

And  through  the  srnoke,  in  retrospective  haze, 

He  recalls  to  mind  the  departed  days. 

"You  ask  of  my  pipe — my  old  calumet — 

That  I  smoke  here  to-day; 

Bedecked  with  a  scene  of  the  chase,  clear  cut, 

Deep  in  its  rich  red  clay? 

From  the  red  pipestone  quarry,"  the  old  man  said. 

"Came  all  of  the  clay  for  the  peace  pipes  red. 


45 


LEGENDS. 

"Above  the  pipe  quarry,  in  days  of  old, 

Two  great  tribes  fought  and  bled, 

And  their  blood  soaked  down  through  the  cold  damp  mould 

And  colored  the  pipe  clay  red. 

This  pipe  was  tinted  in  that  old  affray 

When  the  blood  ran  down  and  painted  the  clay. 

"Then  the  Great  Good  Master  of  Life  was  sad 

To  see  the  peace  pipe  red ; 

And  he  called  the  tribes  of  his  children  bad, 

And  turned  away  his  head. 

Never  since  that  time  have  we  seen  his  face, 

And  his  people  became  a  fallen  race. 

"You  ask  why  I  sit  on  this  summit's  tip, 

Here  by  the  'Giant's  Stair?' 

What  my  eyes  behold  toward  the  wave's  low  dip 

Over  rocks  so  rough  and  bare? 

My  treasure  once  lay  on  a  ledge  below, 

In  the  moons  gone  past,  in  the  long  ago. 

"The  fairest  of  all,  in  the  long  gone  day, 

The  moons  so  cold  and  dead, 

Was  the  old  Chieftain's  daughter,  Fayaway ; 

Raven  her  dusky  head, 

Her  face  like  the  snow  on  the  mountain  side, 

And  her  cheeks  like  the  glow  at  eventide. 

"But  Pau-guk  called;  on  the  'White  Spirit  Road' 

Wandered  her  silent  tread  ; 

And  gone  for  all  time  was  the  light  of  day, 

For  Fayaway  was  dead. 

Four  nights  on  her  grave  the  death  fire  I  made, 

And  watched  till  the  dawn  when  the  bright  stars  fade. 

46 


THE  SKELETON  ON  THE  STAIR. 

"Her  grave,  over  there  where  her  people  lay, 

Seemed  not  for  me  alone; 

So  I  took  her  up,  and  carried  her  here, 

And  then  she  was  my  own. 

For  hours  I  toiled  in  that  long  night  of  woe 

To  lower  her  down  to  the  ledge  below. 

"Then  no  one  save  me  knew  the  place  she  slept; 

No  one  could  touch  her  grave; 

Then  here  on  this  spot  my  lone  watch  I  kept, 

Above  the  'Fairy  Cave.' 

The  breeze  by  day  bore  my  love  from  the  height- 

And  waves  repeated  it  through  all  the  night. 

"Into  forest  trees  have  the  saplings  grown, 

My  people  passed  away; 

Like  a  birch  tree  old,  on  a  mountain  lone, 

My  hair  is  bleached  and  gray. 

Soon  will  my  moccasins  follow  the  trail 

Where  the  waters  swift  will  my  bark  assail. 

"Many  moons  ago  did  the  stranger  white 

Ascend  the  mighty  steep, 

And,  gaining  the  ledge  of  the  dizzy  height, 

Disturb  my  Loved  One's  sleep. 

And  they  bore  her  away,  I  know  not  where, 

From  the  ledge  in  the  rock-made  'Giant's  Stair.' 

"You  ask  why  I  sit  on  this  summit's  tip, 

Here  by  the  'Giant's  Stair?' 

What  my  eyes  behold  toward  the  wave's  low  dip 

Over  rocks  so  rough  and  bare? 

My  treasure  once  lay  on  a  ledge  below, 

In  the  moons  gone  past — in  the  long  ago." 


47 


ARCH  ROCK. 


HERE'S  an  Isle  far  away,  where  blue  straits  lie 

gleaming — 

An  emerald  set  in  the  deep; 
Where  dark  pine  trees   murmuring   low   in   their 

dreaming, 

A  legend  repeat  in  their  sleep. 

They  whisper  of  days  when  the  great  giant  fairies 
Danced  over  this  fair  "Turtle  Isle," 
With  slippers  as  bright  as  the  sunshine  that  tarries 
And  glints  through  the  green  with  its  smile. 

They  tell  of  the  great  Gitch-ie  Man-i-to  Master 

Who  strayed  through  the  heights  in  the  wood ; 
Who,  by  his  wise  words,  saved  his  race  from  disaster, 

This  ruler,  so  mighty  and  good. 
They  moan  in  repeating  how  one  day  he  vanished 

And  never  was  heard  of  again; 
How  the  spell  was  broken,  and  how  he  was  banished 

Evermore  from  the  sight  of  men. 

For  far  in  the  land  of  the  "Wild  Roaring  Water," 

Sailed  a  vessel  upon  her  wray ; 
From  above  the  Falls  where  dwells  Old   Eagle's  daughter, 

Known  as  "Maid  of  the  Mist"  to-day; 
Across  the  blue  waters  of  Erie  then  speeding 

She  entered  the  river  so  wide, 
Where  the  wild  fowl  fluttered,  and  shy  deer  were  feeding, 

Where  Detroit  now  rests  bv  its  side. 


ARCH  ROCKS, 

• 

And,  sailing  she  came  to  the  great  "White  Wood  Island," 

Past  St.  Clair,  Huron,  and  Thunder  Bay; 
And,  rounding  its  foot,  a  bright  green  covered  highland 

Otf  across  the  blue  waters  lay; 
'Twas  the  Island  of  Magic — Michilimackinac  sleeping, 

Undisturbed  by  even  the  waves; 

And    strangers    had    ne'er     through    her    forests    gone 
creeping, 

Nor  entered  her  crystalline  caves. 

The  great  giant  fairies  o'er  mosses  went  hieing 

Through  fretwork  and  fair  filigree; 
And  some  lost  their  slippers  of  gold  in  their  flying 

To  caverns  deep  under  the  sea. 
Should  you  go  through  the  shadows  deep  in  the  tangle, 

Along  the  precipitous  way. 
You'll  find  them  hung  long  the  cliff  side's  steep  angle, 

Where  they  dropped  them  that  long  vanished  day. 

Gitch-ie  Man-i-to  went  with  giant  tread  marching 

For  the  grottos  under  the  Isle — 
To  his  doorway,  where  still  the  rock  framework  is  arching 

Above  the  debris  in  a  pile. 
Here  he  paused  for  each  giant  fairy  to  enter 

Through  the  small  Arch  down  near  the  shore, 
Ere  the  keystone  he  wrested  from  deep  in  its  center — 

And  closed  was  the  Man-i-to's  door. 

Now  listen  again  to  the  pines  in  their  sighing, 

And  they'll  tell  you  how  on  that  day, 
The  white  strangers  hastened,  the  fair  Isle  descrying 

From  their  boat  anchored  down  in  the  bay; 
How,  just  as  their  feet  touched  the  beautiful  Island 

The  earth  of  the  "Great  Archway"  fell; 
Thus  shutting  forever  the  door  'neath  the  highland 

Where  fairies  and  Man-i-to  dwell. 


49 


LEGENDS. 


ARCH  ROCKS. 

You  may  still  find  the  mark  where   this   ruler   was  stand 
ing— 

Man-i-to,  mighty  and  good; 
Where  he  threw   down   his   pipe   ere   the  strangers  made 

landing, 
And  tore  out  the  "Cave  in  the  Wood." 


And  its  weight  was  so  great,  that  the  rocks  split  asunder 

And  cracked  the  whole  Island  in  two; 
The  white  men  mistook  the  low  rumble  for  thunder, 

And  round  them  the  wild  sea-birds  flew. 

Should  you  visit  this  'Msle  of  the  Giant  Fairies" 
And  pass  Gitch-ie  Man-i-to's  door, 


LEGENDS. 


Where  much  of  the  charm  of  the  past 

day  still  tarries, 
The   keystone   you'll    find    on    the 

shore. 
You'll  know  it  from  boulders  that  lie 

there  all  scattered — 
'Tis  called  "Gitch-ie  Man-i-to." 
It  rests  down  below  the  "Great  Arch 
way"  so  shattered. 
Where  he  threw  it  long,  long  ago. 

You'll  see  the  small  Arch  where  the  fairies  were  hidden 

When  the  strangers  came  on  the  shore. 
Should  you  wander  alone,  they'll  come  if  they're  bidden 

And  tell  of  the  charmed  days  of  yore. 

Or,  they'll   lead    you   deep   through   the   woodland's  dim 
arbor 

Where  the  "Cave"  and  the  "Crack"  are  to-day; 
Where  the  peace  pipe  was  thrown  when  into 
the  harbor 

Came  the  "Griffin"  upon  her  way. 

Should  you  miss  them,  the  pine  trees  low  in 

their  dreaming 

The  legend  repeat  in  their  sleep, 
On  the  Isle  far  away   where   blue   straits   lie 

gleaming, 

An  emerald  set  in  the  deep. 
They  whisper  of  days  when  the  great  Giant 

Fairies 

Danced  over  the  fair  "Turtle  Isle," 
With  slippers  as  bright  as  the  sunshine  that 

tarries, 
And  glints  through  the  green  writh  its  smile. 


SKULL  CAVE. 


Many  days  had  raged  a  tempest 
And  the  sea  with  waves  ran  high; 

None  could  brave  the  angry  breakers 
But  the  kay-oshks  sailing  by, 

Dipping  in  each  angry  billow 
As  it  strove  to  reach  the  sky. 

None  could  go  into  the  forest 

Where  the  tempest  reigned  alone; 

Twisting  mighty  trees  like  grasses, 
Till  with  many  a  creak  and  moan, 

Parting  from  the  earth  that  held  them, 
They  fell  downward  with  a  groan. 


53 


LEGENDS. 

Fishers  sat  unwilling  idlers 

Listening  to  the  ceaseless  roar. 

Hunters  saw,  with  fears  of  hunger, 
Slowly  melt  their  laid-up  store; 

Still  the  forest  shook  and  trembled, 
Still  the  breakers  beat  the  shore. 

Slowly  famine  sought  the  village; 

Still  the  tempest's  wrathful  cry. 
Each  divided  with  his  neighbor. 

Still  the  waves  ran  fierce  and  high, 
And  through  all  the  groaning  forest 

Naught  was  heard  but  moan  and  sigh. 

All  the  people  met  in  council, 

And  the  oldest  of  his  race 
Thus  addressed  the  gathered  warriors:— 

"Every  one  is  in  his  place, — 
And,  my  children,  we  are  starving;" 

Ghastly  showed  his  withered  face. 

"Many  moons  I  roved  the  woodlands; 

Many  moons  I  skimmed  the  tide; 
Many  moons  I  climbed  the  yo-nond 

Ere  you  children  at  my  side 
Came  into  this  land  of  shadows — 

Let  my  message  be  your  guide. 

"In  the  Northland  sits  the  Wind  Bird, 
On  the  last  edge  of  the  world; 

There  is  calm  and  peaceful  weather 

When  his  great  strong  wings  are  furled 

But  when  flaps  his  wings  in  anger 
Then  the  hurricane  is  hurled. 


54 


SKULL    CA  VE. 

"Someone  now  must  travel  Northward 

And  do  battle  with  this  Bird; 
For  he  fans  this  forest  whirlwind; 

By  his  wings  these  waves  are  stirred. 
We  are  starving!  We  must  battle! 

I  have  spoken, — you  have  heard!' 

'Mong  the  warriors  was  Mes-sog-won. 

As  the  old  man  took  his  place, 
Tall,  he  rose  among  his  fellows 

Determination  in  his  face. 
"This  same  day  I  go  to  Northward— 

I,  the  strongest  of  my  race." 

The  third  day  after  he  had  journeyed 
Great  calm  settled  on  the  land; 

Tempests  sank  to  murm'ring  zephyrs; 
Ripples  kissed  the  gleaming  sand, 

Fishers  fished,  and  hunters  hunted; 
There  were  fish  and  meat  at  hand. 

Three  days  more,  and  came  Mes-sog-won 
His  keen,  flashing  eyes  were  dim. 

He  was  bent  and  bruised  from  battle, 
Scarred  of  face  and  weak  of  limb. 

Joyous  was  their  hearty  greeting, 
Welcoming  and  feasting  him. 

Then  he  spoke, — "Oh,  listen,  brothers, 
I  the  mighty  Wind  Bird  found 

Far  away  up  in  the  Northland, 
On  a  high  and  rocky  mound. 

Then  began  a  long  fierce  battle— 

I  conquered  him,  and  left  him   bound. 


55 


^  LEGENDS. 

"When  first  he  saw  that  I  was  master 
And  closely  to  him  did  I  cling; 

Thinking  he  would  thus  escape  me, 
He  cleft  the  air  with  sudden  spring 

And  o'er  the  waters  toward  the  Southland 
Sped  with  me  on  sweeping  wing. 


"On  he  flew,  but  ever  slower, 

Ever  closer  to  the  sea, 
Till  I  saw  down  in  the  waters — 

An  Island  strange,  it  seemed  to  be- 
An  island  like  a  monster  turtle; 

Here  the  Wind  Bird  fell  with  me. 


SKULL   CA  VE. 

"Downward  toward  this  "Turtle  Island;' 
I  trembled,  though  you  call  me  brave, 

Fell  down,  and  down,  until  we  landed 
Beyond  the  reach  of  stilling  wave. 

Broken  was  one  mighty  pinion. 
Here  I  left  him  in  a  cave." 


Days  passed  by,  the  sunshine  lingered; 

Not  a  ripple  curled  the  sea; 
Woodlands  stood  in  calmest  grandeur, 

Not  e'en  a  zephyr  fanned  a  tree. 
Fishers  gathered  stores  of  plenty, 

Game  was  found  through  wood  and  lea. 

Peace  and  plenty  filled  the  village, 
In  they  gathered  bounteous  store; 

Waters  lay  like  gleaming  mirrors, 
Circled  by  the  reed-fringed  shore. 

Days  and  weeks  the  calm  continued- 
Such  calm  ne'er  was  known  before. 

Then  a  murmur  slowly  started — 
Scums  were  forming  on  the  tide; 

Leaves  were  withering  in  the  woodlands, 
One  by  one  the  streamlets  dried; 

O'er  the  surface  of  the  waters 
Fishes  floated  where  they  died. 

Sickness  grew  upon  the  people; 

Came  no  clouds,  nor  freshening  rain; 
Waters  in  the  lakes  grew  stagnant. 

Far  abroad  o'er  wood  and  plain 
Search  for  pools  or  springs  of  water 

Nearly  always  was  in  vain. 


57 


LEGENDS. 

People  once  more  met  in  council, 

Came  the  old  man  through  the  door; 
Thus  he  spoke: — "Go  to  the  Island 

To  the  'Cave'  up  from  the.  shore- 
Mend  the  pinion  of  the  Wind  Bird." 
Then,  dying,  sank  upon  the  floor. 

That  same  day  two  daring  warriors 
Started  for  the  Island  "Cave," 

Far  across  the  stagnant  waters. 
From  that  day  was  neither  brave 

Ever  heard  of  in  the  village. 

Did  they  fill  an  unknown  grave? 

Sickness  grew,  and  many  languished; 

Others  started  from  the  shore 
For  the  "Cave"  upon  the  Island: — 

Never  were  they  heard  of  more. 
People  longed  to  hear  the  tempest, 

And  the  breakers  on  the  shore. 

Then  Mes-sog-won,  now  grown   stronger, 
Still  bearing  many  a  mark  and  scar. 

Came  and  walked  down  toward  the  water 
And  his  eyes  were  cast  afar. 

And  he  said, — "I  go  to  Northward! 
Fare  ye  well,  I  go  to  war!" 

The  third  day.     The  people  waited. 

Would  their  waiting  be  in  vain? 
Others  lay  and  moaned  in  anguish — 

Hark!   A  breeze  sweeps  wood  and  plain. 
Waters  stir,  the  scum  floats  seaward ; 

Moving  clouds  bring  cooling  rain. 


SKULL   CA  VE. 

There  is  joy  and  great  thanksgiving- 
People  send  forth  grateful  praise. 

Streams  burst  forth,  the  wavelets  ripple; 
There  are  bright  and  perfect  days. 

"Mes-sog-won  comes!    All  hail  Mes-sog-won! 
Is  the  cry  the  people  raise. 

His  hand  is  raised  bidding  silence, 
And  he  speaks:  "No  praise  is  due, 

For  I  have  not  been  in  danger. 
The  story  I  will  tell  to  you: — 

I  journeyed  to  the  "Turtle  Island"; 
Slowly  near  the  'Cave'  I  drew. 

"The  great  Wind  Bird  sat  there  unmoving 
Where  the  shadows  deeply  cling. 

Without  pause  the  'Cave'  I  entered, 
And  then  said: — 'I  healing  bring — 

I,  the  one  who  broke  your  pinion — 
I  have  come  to  mend  your  wing.' 

"When  I  bade  him  move  it  gently, 

Breezes  in  the  trees  I  heard, 
And  I  saw  that  I  was  master 

Of  this  great  and  mighty  Bird. 
Still  his  strong  wings  moved  he  gently; 

Ripples  on  the  sea  were  stirred. 

"Then  I  peered  deep  in  the  shadows, 

And,  upon  the  cavern   stones, 
I  saw  gleaming  in  the  darkness 

Bleaching  piles  of  human  bones, 
And  me-thought  I  heard  repeated 

Echoes  of  their  silenced  groans. 


59 


LEGENDS. 

"That  is  where  our  people  linger, 

Near  the  softly  swelling  wave; 
Those  who  traveled  to  the  Northward 

There  lie  in  one  common  grave. 
Those  who  sought  and  found  the  Wind  Bird, 

Silent  lie  within  his  'Cave.'  ' 

Mes-sog-won  from  that  day  was  master 

Of  the  Bird  that  ruled  the  air; 
Peace  and  plenty  filled  the  wigwams. 

When  white  men  found  the  Island  fair, 
The  Wind  Bird  flew,  none  knew  whither; 

Only  bleaching  bones  were  there. 


THE  TWIN  SISTER  ROCKS. 


The  glowing  embers  falling  asunder 

Conquered  the  shadows  with  cheery  light; 

What  mattered  the  storm,  and  the  rumbling  thunder? 

Within  there  were  no  cares  to  cumber  — 
They  were  banished  outside  with  the  night. 


A  woman  sat  there,  gay  beads  entwining 

With  sinews  and  thongs  of  the  brightest  hue; 
And  happy  the  thought  in  their  designing, 
And  some  loved  destiny  their  assigning, 
If  one  could  fathom  the  dark  face  true. 


LEGENDS. 

And  over  across  the  embers  gleaming 

A  flashing  light  caught  the  ruddy  glow. 
Like  lightning  entrapped  and  held  there  dreaming, 
A  glint  from  the  sky  where  shafts  were  streaming; 
'Twas  a  blade  flashing  to  and  fro. 

Under  the  knife  blade's  shining  reflection 
The  wood  fell  away  with  each  stroke  keen; 

A  cradle  small  was  nearing  perfection, 

And  tiny  the  child  for  its  protection 
By  its  length  could  he  plainly  seen. 

At  last  the  foot  board  was  all  perfected, 

For  the  little  feet  a  needed  rest: 
An  arching  hoop  was  firmly  connected, 
For  by  its  strength  the  child  was  protected 

When  put  in  its  moss-cushioned  nest. 

The  woman  then  the  small  cradle  holding, 
Arranged  all  its  trappings  one  by  one. 

Bound  on  a  blanket  with  careful  folding, 

With  bead-wrought  bands  that  she  had  been  moulding, 
And  the  rude  little  cradle  was  done. 

After  the  storm,  with  a  smile  of  pleasure. 
The  sunlight  greeted  the  waking  morn. 

And,  Man-i-to,  with  a  lavish  measure, 

Had  left  at  the  lodge  a  double  treasure, 
For  a  pair  of  twin  babies  were  born. 

E'en  in  our  time  it  is  sometimes  vexing 

To  know  in  the  start  just  what  to  do; 
In  the  small  lodge  it  was  sore  perplexing 
How  to  manage  the  double  annexing 

Of  the  little  papooses  two. 


62 


THE    TWIN  SISTER  ROCKS. 

Not  the  single  suit  with  bead-wrought  tracing. 
Nor  the  cradle  just  fashioned  for  one, 

Were  the  troubles  that  the  pair  were  facing; 

For  twins  were  believed  the  most  disgracing 
Of  endowments  under  the  sun. 

And  vain  they  knew  would  be  the  dissuading, 
Should  the  chief  learn  of  the  little  pair; 

The  cruel  law  there  seemed  no  evading 

By  interdiction  or  bold  persuading. 
To  be  killed  upon  birth  was  their  fare. 

After  much  thought  a  plan  was  perfected. 

And  one  little  papoose  was  to  die, 
Before  the  tribe  the  two  had  detected, 
It  only  remained  one  be  selected, 

But  how  equally  balanced  the  tie. 

Day  after  day  from  the  deed  refraining, 

They  tried  to  pick  from  the  rival  twain,— 
Who  had  learned  to  smile,  arid  uncomplaining 
Awaited  the  cast  of  their  ordaining — 
The  child  that  should  with  them  remain. 

No  need  of  choosing  one  or  the  other, 

For  some  one  approached  the  wigwam  door 
And  entered — the  truth  they  could  not  smother, 
There  were  the  babes  and  devoted  mother, 
And  the  twins  were  a  secret  no  more. 

From  lodge  to  lodge  the  report  went  speeding, 

Of  the  gift  of  the  evil  Man-i-to; 
The  chieftain  harkened,  and  quickly  heeding 
He  hastily  came,  all  the  others  leading, 

To  free  themselves  from  this  sign  of  woe. 


LEGENDS. 

Then  up  he  spoke  to  the  gathered  faction — 
"To-night  the  father  must  both  twins  slay. 

From  this  decree  there  is  no  retraction. 

Then  for  deceit  and  long-delayed  action 
He  must  journey  from  this  land  away." 

The  morning  dawned  with  rose  colour  creeping; 

In  the  early  flush  the  couple  stood. 
Silent  they  waited,  their  lone  watch  keeping, 
Between  them  two  mounds,  rounded  and  heaping, 

Scarred  the  face  of  the  fair  sleeping  wood. 

When  the  tribe  came,  still  no  murmur  making, 

They  saw  them  loosen  a  mighty  stone, 
Then  another  that  set  the  earth  a-shaking 
As  on  they  pushed  them  rolling  and  quaking, 
One  on  each  little  grave  to  be  thrown. 

This  task  completed,  the  tribe  departed, 

All  save  the  old  chieftain  so  stern, 
Who  stayed  to  see  their  long  journey  started, 
The  woman  sad  and  the  man  weak-hearted, 

And  to  bid  them  never  return. 

They  turned  alone,  a  winding  path  taking 
To  the  trail  that  led  down  to  their  boat; 
Through  dim  alleys  where  song  birds  were  waking, 
They  reached  the  shore  as  daylight  was  breaking, 
Where  most  of  their  goods  lay  afloat. 

Here  by  the  water  silently  standing, 

No  sound  was  heard  but  a  singing  bird. 
Into  the  boat  that  lay  on  the  landing, 
Their  few  small  burdens  silently  handing, 
They  still  uttered  never  a  word. 


64 


THE   TWIN  SISTER  ROCKS. 

Then  in  the  thicket  stealthily  stealing, 
They  each  emerged  with  a  little  form 
The  rising  sun  the  secret  revealing, 
That  shadows  dim  had  been  concealing, 
Two  babies  waiting,  cosy  and  warm. 


Then  off  o'er  the  deep,  faster  and  faster 

To  pitch  their  lodge  on  some  distant  strand; 

There  to  live  free,  with  no  one  their  master; 

There  with  their  children  safe  from  disaster; 
Far  from  the  spot  where  the  great  Rocks  stand. 


LEGENDS. 


66 


NIF-FON  AND  PE-BO-AN. 


How  sad  and  drear,  to  Nif-fon's  grief, 
Appeared  the  lands  of  her  domain, 

When  came  the  "Moon  of  Falling  Leaf"  ; 
How  tarnished  were  the  wood  and  plain 
Where  blooming  verdure  once  had  lain. 

Her  garments,  that  a  glowing  green, 
Had  trailing  swept  the  sylvan  glade, 

Were  lacking  now  in  brilliant  sheen 
Of  blended  shades  in  rich  brocade, 
Like  vestments  of  a  past  decade. 

She  sighed  for  happy  vanished  days, 
When  Sog-a-tun  sent  balmy  showers, 

And  song  birds  told  their  mating  lays, 

While  Se-gwun  wooed  her  decked  in  flowers 
Through  gaily  speeding,  gladsome  hours. 

She  left  her  lodge  of  dying  vines. 
And  took  a  path  that  led  away 

Beyond  the  bound  of  her  confines, 

Toward  realms  of  Northern  Lakes  and  Bay 
Where  cold  Kab-bib-bon-ok-ka  lay. 

Far  on  the  road  great  mountains  high 
Rose  up  like  giants  bold  and  stern, 

And  from  her  breast  escaped  a  sigh- 
She  strove  in  vain  to  swift  return, 
But  forced  was  now  her  sad  sojourn. 


67 


LEGENDS. 

Her  garments  faded,  and  her  hair 
So  t>unny  turned  to  bleaching  gray; 

She  seemed  impelled  by  some  strange  snare 
That  forced  her  on  along  the  way 
With  failing  steps  and  no  delay. 

The  heights  she  saw  were  fields  of  snow, 
The  lakes  like  wastes  of  crystal  stone; 

She  staggered  on  with  footsteps  slow, 
Until  at  last,  fatigued  and  lone. 
She  slow  approached  Pe-bo-an's  throne. 

He  wooed  her  in  her  dire  distress 
With  icy  touch  of  frost  and  sleet, 

Until  she  sank  'neath  his  caress, 
His  victim,  at  Old  Winter's  feet  — 
Wrapped  closely  in  his  winding  sheet. 

And  there  he  kept  her  till  one  day 
When  Sog-a-tun,  the  warming  rain, 

Descried  her  lodge  in  disarray, 

All  bleached  and  battered  on  the  plain, 
When  seeking  out  her  old  domain. 

He  called  the  East  and  West  Winds  wild, 
To  rise  and  follow  on  her  trail ; 

He  called  the  South  Wind,  strong  but  mild, 
To  haste,  and  snow  and  ice  assail 
In  Winter's  rugged  coat  of  mail. 

And  Winter  sent  the  North  Wind  out 
To  meet  the  onslaught  on  the  plain; 

With  sleet  and  snow  he  planned  the  rout, 
But  all  his  storming  was  in  vain — 
They  deluged  him  with  melting  rain. 


68 


NIF-FON  AND  PE-BO-AN. 

And  Nif-fon  rousing  from  her  sleep, 
Awoke  with  rain  upon  her  face; 

With  tattered  garments  trailing  sweep 
She  sadly  turned  her  path  to  trace 
With  drooping  mien  and  deep  disgrace. 

And  as  she  went  along  the  way 

Her  garments  bright  and  brighter  grew: 

While  sunny  locks  replaced  the  gray. 
The  verdure  sprang,  her  feet  to  woo— 
Her  face  regained  its  youthful  hue. 

At  last  in  old-time  dainty  dress, 
She,  led  by  Se-gwun,  walked  again 

Through  blooming  realms  that  with  caress 
Rejoiced  to  meet  her  gladsome  reign, 
And  bid  her  welcome  to  the  plain. 

But  from  that  absent  fatal  day 
When  Summer  in  her  discontent 

Wandered  from  her  land  away, 
A  part  of  all  her  years  are  spent 
In  regions  cold  for  punishment. 


69 


LEGENDS. 


SUGAR    LOAF     ROCK. 


SUGAR  LOAF  ROCK. 


Six  trav'lers  came  o'er  the  waters 

And  drew  their  canoes  on  shore; 
Then  went  o'er  a  path,  deep  winding, 

To  the  mighty  Man-i-to's  door; 
To  the  lodge  of  Man-a-boz-ho; 

To  his  wigwam  of  pointed  rock. 
The  boldest  stepped  to  the  opening, 

And  gave  a  resounding  knock. 

"Who  comes  to  disturb  my  quiet 

When  the  sun  is  shining  high? 
I  cannot  give  you  my  council 

Till  the  moon  tips  cedars  high. 
But,  go  to  the  point  I  bid  you, 

And  there,  three  times  touch  the  rock, 
And  regale  yourselves  on  honey 

Until  I  my  door  unlock. 

Then,  the  hidden  voice  was  silent; 

And  they  went  as  they  were  bid  ; 
And  all  feasted  on  the  honey 

In  "Sugar  Loaf  Rock"  deep  hid. 
They  feasted  till  the  daylight 

Paled  in  the  dark'ning  west, 
And  the  moon  rose  like  some  spectre 

And  tipped  bright  the  cedar's  crest. 

And,  as  she  rose  in  her  fulness, 

And  complete  shone  on  the  night, 
The  curtain  of  rock  was  lifted; 


71 


LEGENDS. 

Man-a-boz-ho  came  in  sight. 
Saying,—  "One  by  one,  ye  mortals 

Who  come  from  over  the  sea, 
Step  forward  and  name  thy  wishes, 

And  they  shall  be  granted  thee. " 

Then  up  stepped  the  first  one  'mong  them, 

A  tall  stripling,  scarce  a  man, 
And  trie  blood  of  youth  was  flushing 

All  his  beardless  cheek  of  tan. 
"If  it  please  thee,  Mighty  Spirit, 

The  good  promise  to  me  give, 
That  I  may  have  game  in  plenty; 

The  allotted  lifetime  Jive." 

His  companion,  standing  by  him, 

Said — "Give  me  a  mighty  name; 
May  I  win  in  all  the  battles; 

Man-a-boz-ho,  give  me  fame." 
"To  you  both  I  grant  your  wishes; 

For  thou  a  long  life  shalt  live; 
And  thou  shalt  win  fame  in  battle. 

For  I  have  the  power  to  give.' 

Then  there  came  another  forward— 

"I'm  chief  of  a  noble  race. 
May  I  do  my  duty  by  them 

And  forever  hold  my  place." 
And  the  next  one  to  petition — 

A  fisher  of  low  degree — 
Said — "Grant  me  an  abundance 

Of  the  fishes  of  the  sea." 


SfJGAX  LOAF  ROCK. 

Then  did  Man-a-boz-ho  answer — 

"It  shall  be  as  you  both  wish, 
For  thou  shalt  remain  a  chieftain; 

And  thou  catch  thy  share  of  fish. 
But  there's  two  who  have  not  yet  spoken, 

Step  forward  and  state  thy  plea, 
And  whatever  be  thy  longing, 

It  shall  be  granted  to  thee. " 


Then  up  came  the  boldest  'mong  them 

Saying — "Mighty  One,  do- give 
And  grant  me  this  humble  blessing — 

That  I  may  forever  live." 
His  companion  stepped  beside  him 

And  said — "Thou  of  magic  name, 
Who  canst  give  to  us  our  wishes, 

Wilt  thou  grant  to  me  the  same?" 


LEGENDS. 

The  silver  moon  rising  slowly 

Shed  abroad  her  beaming  light 
As  the  voice  of  Man-a-boz-ho 

Rang  out  on  the  stilly  night. 
"Thy  wishes  also  are  granted. 

Both  now  harken  well  to  me! 
Thou  shalt  be  a  senseless  boulder. 

And  thou  a  gnarled  cedar  tree!" 

They  tried  to  rush  from  his  presence; 

But  the  one  congealed  to  stone; 
The  other  rooted  to  the  spot, 

A  cedar  tree  weird  and  lone. 
All  the  others  fled  to  seaward 

And  left  that  enchanted  spot; 
The  cedar  with  arms  out-reaching, 

Far  over  a  lime-stone  rock. 

Should  you  travel  to  the  Northward, 

To  loiter  the  time  away, 
You'll  find  them  just  as  on  that  night 

In  the  self-same  spot  to-day. 
And  if  on  some  moon-lit  evening, 

You  on  Man-a-boz-ho  call, 
Be  sure  in  making  your  wishes, 

To  have  them  extremely  small. 


74 


LOVE  SONG. 


Oh  maiden,  give  ear  to  thy  lov 
er's  voice, 
Hark  to  his  ardent  persuading 

plea; 
He    roams    alone    through    the 

shadows  deep, 
All  of  the  village  is  fast,  asleep; 

The  moon  hangs  low  o'er  the  distant  sea. 

He  sues  for  a  seat  in  thy  wigwam  small — 

The  place  of  choice  by  thy  waiting  side; 
List  to  the  wish  that  his  words  express: 
Oh,  rouse  from  thy  mat  of  drowsiness 
Bid  him  to  enter  and  there  abide! 

Bright  flowers  he'll  find  thee  in  hidden  glade, 
Berries  he'll  gather  from  tangled  height; 

Nuts  he  will  pick  from  the  frosted  trees, 

And  seek  for  the  stores  of  honey  bees 
As  offerings,  all  for  thy  delight. 

He  will  search  on  the  shore  for  agates  gay 

To  wear  as  tokens  about  thy  neck; 
He  will  bring  thee  a  pair  of  scarlet  wings 
To  bind  in  thy  hair  with  wampum  strings, 
And  softest  skins  to  thy  form  bedeck. 


75 


LEGENDS. 

Into  the  hands  of  thy  lover  so  true. 

The  lakes  and  woods  shall  yield  their  store 
He'll  gather  them  all  to  lay  at  thy  feet, 
If  thou  grant  to  him  the  chosen  seat 

And  list  to  the  wish  his  words  implore. 

The  moon  now  is  fallen,  the  air  is  chill, 
Silenced  are  all  the  birds  of  night. 

Ah,  wilt  thou  not  heed  his  pleading  song? 

Still  dost  thou  dream,  and  his  suit  prolong. 
Waken — and  put  all  his  doubts  to  flight 


76 


HANGING  ROCKS. 


HANGING  ROCKS. 


His  birch-craft  sped  with  the  paddle's  turn, 
Wielded  with  skill  at  the  chemaun's  stern, 
Fleet  as  a  bird  on  its  southern  flight 
Nor  swerved  a  hair  to  the  left  or  right. 
It  stirred  the  blue  into  wid'ning  wake, 
That,  falling  back,  curled  the  mirrored  lake. 
The  air  was  sultry,  close  and  warm, 
And  the  youth  read  signs  of  coming  storm. 


His  course  lay  off  toward  an  Island  high, 
Whose  towering  cliffs  against  the  sky 
Were  crowned  with  juniper,  birch  and  pine, 
All  laced  with  creepers  and  clinging  vine. 
The  spot  was  enchanted,  his  people  said, 
And  none  dwelt  there  but  the  sleeping  dead; 
But  the  daring  youth  knew  naught  of  fear 
And  laughed  at  their  words  with  scoff  and  jeer. 


Onward  he  paddled  and  gained  the  beach  ; 
He  drew  his  boat  from  the  water's  reach, 
Then,  walking  along  the  rock-strewn  shore 
Where  foot  had  perchance  ne'er  trod'n  before, 
He  came  at  last,  'midst  the  boulders  rough, 
To  an  open  way  leading  up  the  bluff. 
Pursuing  this,  and  gaining  the  height 
There  the  lake,  far-reaching,  lay  in  sight. 


HANGING  ROCKS. 


V--" 


Here  leaving  the  crags,  like  castle  walls, 
He  entered  the  cool  and  columned  halls 
Where  mosses  vied  with  tendrils  sweet 
To  trim  the  shade  at  the  forest's  feet; 


79 


LEGENDS. 


And  the  trunks  up-rising  straight  and  high 
With  worlds  of  leaves  screened  the  glowing  sky 
Till  scarcely  a  glimmer  reached  the  bed 
Of  pine  needles,  soft  beneath  his  tread. 


On,  on  he  went  through. the  shadows  dim 

Hoping  to  follow  the  Island's  rim, 

And  all  of  its  coast  to  closely  trace 

Until  he  came  to  his  starting  place. 

Nor  could  this  stripling  with  bold  heart  guess 

The  charm  of  this  untrod  wilderness. 

Where  warriors,  hardened  in  strife  and  chase. 

Cared  not  its  secrets  to  boldly  face. 


Nor  did  he  credit  the  oft  told  tale 
Of  fairies'  fall  down  the  "Spirit  Trail"; 
Nor  the  Turtle's  rise  from  hidden  caves 
Saving   them  thus  from  the  waiting  waves. 
But  he  hastened  on  through  shadows  deep 
Where  the  trees  were  waking  from  their  sleep 
And  with  rising  sigh  and  swaying  form 
Awaited  the  rush  of  the  coming  storm. 


He  passed   where  rested  the  sleeping  dead 
'Neath  birchen  lodges  above  their  head; 
Each  small  roof  pierced  with  a  rounded  hole 
For  ceaseless  flitting  of  restless  soul. 
As  the  wind  increased,  he  crossed  the  height 
Till  the  great  "Stone  Wigwam"  came  in  sight; 
But  tightly  closed  was  the  stone-wrought  door. 
So  he  sought  for  shelter  along  the  shore. 


HANGING  ROCKS. 

The  clouds  hurried  past;  the  darkness  grew; 
While  the  wind  swept  fierce,  and  screaming  blew; 
And  each  writhing  tree,  with  low  bent  crest, 
Moaned  and  lamented  with  strange  unrest. 
Tracing  the  cliffs,  high  up  from  the  shore, 
Where  the  waves  now  beat  with  deafening  roar, 
The  youth  found  a  passage  leading  down 
Where  the  rocks  hung  close  with  sombre  frown. 

He  traced  the  ledge  'round  a  jutting  crag, 
And  hanging  low,  with  threatening  sag, 
Were  monster  rocks  like  a  giant's  tower 
That  locked  the  ledge  with  menacing  lower. 
Down  through  the  pines  beat  the  booming  wave; 
High  in  the  wall  yawned  an  open  cave. 
As  shelter  was  still  his  needed  quest, 
He  clambered  up  to  this  eyrie  nest. 

Up,  over  surfaces  rough  and  bold, 

With  but  clefts  and  cracks  his  grasp  to  hold; 

He  finally  reached  the  cavern  small; 

Below  writhed  the  forest,  dark  and  tall. 

Here,  secure  from  the  rushing  storm, 

Completely  sheltered,  and  dry  and  warm. 

He  prepared  to  wait,  and  resting  lie 

Till  tempest  and  storm  should  pass  him  by. 

How  long  the  waiting  he  never  knew, 
Ere  close  to  his  side  a  sound  there  drew, 
And  he  heard  a  voice  his  own  name  call 
From  solid  rock  in  his  cavern  wall. 
And,  there  behold,  a  beautiful  maid 
Emerged,  as  the  rock  seemed  to  melt  and  fade 
Like  mists  at  morn,  when  the  sun  aglow 
Rises  and  scatters  them  to  and  fro. 


Si 


LEGENDS. 

"Arise,  and  follow!"  commanded  the  maid. 
"Ah,  come,  daring  youth,  art  thou  afraid 
Of  the  first  maiden  who  casts  a  smile 
At  thy  brave  face  on  the  'Turtle  Isle'? 
Now  take  no  thought  of  the  frowning  rock; 
Follow,  it  cannot  thy  pathway  block!" 
She  led  him  forward  through  caverns  gray, 
Till  they  reached  a  grotto's  bright  survey. 

A  blazing  fire  lighted  all  the  place, 
And  brightly  shone  on  an  old  man's  face, 
Whose  glance  discerning  the  youthful  pair, 
He  signaled  them  to  approach  the  glare. 
"Welcome,  brave  youth,"  was  his  greeting  mild. 
He  turned  to  the  maid,  "My  fairest  child, 
Are  your  brothers  seen  in  the  outer  world, 
On  wings  of  the  rushing  tempest  hurled?" 

"Be  patient,  Father,  I'il  look  once  more: 
I  found  this  youth  at  the  cavern  door, 
And  I  failed  to  look  at  the  wind-swept  sky 
Where  storm  and  tempest  are  rushing  by." 
The  stripling  watched  the  beautiful  maid 
Till  into  the  shadows  she  seemed  to  fade; 
Then  turned  to  inspect  the  keen  old  man 
Who  appeared  his  innermost  thoughts  to  scan. 

"She  is,  brave  youth,  an  enchanting  maid; 

You  show  to  me  you  are  not  afraid 

To  join  my  sons  in  their  daring  tasks, 

She  shall  be  yours,  as  your  bold  heart  asks." 

Into  the  cavern  through  solid  rock, 

Came  clanging  footsteps,  with  jolt  and  shock. 

Four  youths  approached  in  sombre  attire, 

With  blades  of  lightning,  that  quenched  the  fire. 


82 


HANGING  ROCKS. 

Standing  alone  in  the  murky  shade, 

The  maiden  seemed  waiting,  half  afraid. 

The  youth  bent  low  'fore  the  aged  sire 

Saying — "Test  me,  is  my  desire; 

And  whatsoever  the  task  may  be 

That  thy  sons  perform  on  land  or  sea, 

I  am  ready  to  join  with  all  my  skill, 

To  win  from  you,  Chieftain,  your  good  will." 

"My  daughter,  bring  from  the  rock  ledge  there, 

A  pair  of  wings  for  this  youth  to  wear; 

And  you,  my  son,  fetch  a  gleaming  blade, 

For  the  youth  bold,  who  is  not  afraid. 

All's  now  ready,  you  have  but  to  fly 

After  my  sons  'cross  the  wind-swept  sky 

And  wield  your  blade  with  the  thunder's  crash, 

Or  scatter  clouds  with  the  lightning's  flash." 

His  wings  were  the  black  of  the  thunder  cloud, 
And  as  he  stirred  they  muttered  aloud; 
A  bolt  from  the  sky,  his  knife  blade   keen 
That  filled  the  cavern  with  pallid  sheen. 
With  eyes  of  beauty  the  watching  maid 
Forbade  him  to  pause  or  be  afraid. 
Into  the  rocks  turned  each  stalwart  son; 
The  task  of  the  daring  youth  is  begun. 

They  reached  the  cave  in  the  outer  height, 

And  in  the  darkness  prepared  for  flight; 

For  the  day  had  passed,  and  the  midnight  black 

Lay  spread  over  all  the  storm-tossed  track. 

The  sons  stirred  their  wings — the  thunder  crashed! 

They  waved  their  blades — and  the  lightning  flashed  ! 

Outward  they  sped  at  an  eagle's  pace 

And  the  youngster  followed  into  space. 


LEGENDS. 

Off,  towards  the  south,  past  the  Island's  shore, 
Their  bright  blades   flashed   to   their  black    wing's 

roar. 

Past  clouds  they  dashed  and  the  lightning  hurled; 
Then  swiftly  dashed  down  to  wind-swept  world. 
The  trees  they  uprooted  as  they  passed, 
Or  left  them  shattered  with  swift  blade  cast. 
But  still  ever  on  o'er  the  lurid   way, 
The  brave  youth  followed  as  fleet  as  they. 

They  rose  again  to  the  upper  world, 
And  from  side  to  side  their  white  shafts  hurled 
In  a  flashing  ball  game  fierce  and  wild 
That  cleft  the  clouds  in  the  darkness  piled! 
A  keener  flash  set  the  gloom  alight, 
vSped  by  the  youth  in  his  sweeping  flight, 
And  with  severed  wings  through  murky  air 
Downward  he  fell,  he  knew  not  where. 

He  roused  at  last  in  the  cavern  small 

Where  the  maid  had  led  through  the  solid  wall; 

It  was  not  night,   but  declining  day, 

Fading  slow  to  twilight,  soft  and  gray, 

He  rose  and  sought  for  the  passage  dim, 

Where  he  had  followed  through  pathways  grim, 

But  closely  fastened  was  every  side; 

Away  in  the  west  the  tempest  died. 


84 


SCOTT'S  CAVE. 


Deep  in  the  forest  an  Ice  Lodge  stood, 

Where  the  wind  with  piercing   cry, 
Through  burdened  trees  of  the  crystaled  wood 
That  quivered  beneath  its  snow-made  hood, 
Went  bitterly  sweeping  by. 

In  the  lodge,  where  dying  embers  lay, 

An  old  Chieftain  dozed  alone; 
But  the  sound  of  the  wind  upon  its  way, 
Driving  the  storm  through  the  forest  gray 

Smote  his  ears  with  sombre  tone. 

His  locks  were  white  as  the  snow,  wind-swept, 
And  trembled  his  withered  frame. 

But  a  sound  above  the  tempest  crept, 

Arousing  him  as  he  languid  slept 
Beside  his  expiring  flame. 

And  to  the  lodge  of  the  Chieftain  hoar 
Came  a  Youth  with  buoyant  tread; 
In  his  hands  sweet  grasses  he  gaily  bore, 
And  redolent  were  the  robes  he  wore 
And  the  flowers  upon  his  head. 

"Welcome,  my  son!"  said  the  Chieftain  old, 
Come,  enter  and  smoke  with  me. 

Hast  thou  been  far  from  my  land  of  Cold? 

Come,  tell  of  thy  deeds  so  manifold 
And  I'll  do  the  same  with  thee. 


LEGENDS. 


86 


SCOTT'S   CA  VE. 

Then  he  drew  from  his  sack  a  pipe  of  clay, 

And  lighted  the  contents  mild; 
The  smoke  ascending  in  curling  sway 
Encircled  his  features  old  and  gray, 

And  the  Old  Man  proudly  smiled. 

"I  blow  my  breath  and  the  lakes  stand  still— 

The  waters  become  like  stcne: 
I  shake  my  locks  and  on  vale  and  hill 
Come  showering  down  the  snow-flakes  chill 

Like  a  robe  of  whiteness  thrown." 

"I     breathe,"   said    the   Youth,    "and    spring    the 
flowers 

Through  woodland  and  over  plain; 
When  I  shake  my  ringlets  come  warming  showers; 
The  streams  awake  in  their  hidden  bowers 

And  go  murmuring  free  again." 

"At  my  command,"  then  the  Old  Man  said, 

"Fall  the  leaves  and  drift  away; 
The  birds  fly  Southward  in  fear  and  dread, 
The  animals  hide  in  their  moss-lined  bed; 

No  one  dares  to  disobey." 

Said  the  Youth— "When  songsters  hear  my  voice 

They  gather  from  far  and  wide, 
And  in  wood  and  glade  they  all  rejoice, 
To  follow  my  footsteps  is  their  choice, 

Through  the  bloom  on  every  side." 

While  they  talked,  the  sun  rose  in  the  sky 

Sending  out  his  warming  rays; 
And  singing  sweet  on  the  lodge  poles  high, 
Two  rival  song-birds  sought  to  vie 

In  their  trilling  roundelays. 


LEGENDS. 

The  Old  Alan  tried  to  complete  his  tale, 
But  drowned  were  his  sombre  words; 
For  waters  burst  through  their  coats  of  mail, 
The  flowers  sprang  up  along  the  trail, 
And  forth  came  the  forest  herds. 


And  slowly  he  faded  before  the  gaze 
Of  the  youth  so  young  and  gay — 
Se-gwun  the  bringer  of  bright  spring  days, 

Se-gwun  who  decked  all  of  Nature's  ways 

After  Old  Pe-bo-ari's  sway. 

When  full  day-light  entered  the  Ice  Lodge  dim 

And  sought  ought  the  Chieftain  old, 
He  sat  by  the  ashes  cold  and  grim, 

Withered  of  face  and  wasted  of  limb 

Pe-bo-an  the  Ice  King  cold. 


SCOTT'S   CA  VE. 

Se-gwtin  scattered  blossoms  far  and  wide 

Through  all  the  fragrant  wood ; 
He  looked  at  his  work  with  happy  pride, 
And  naught  marred    the   view   but   the   Ice   Lodge 
wide 

Rising  close  to  where  he  stood. 

He  breathed — it  turned  to  a  mighty  stone, 

With  a  nearly-melted  door; 
The  trees  budded  out  above  its  cone, 
On  its  threshold  cold  fresh  leaves  were  thrown, 

The  Lodge  was  a  blot  no  more. 

In  later  times,  in  the  fragrant  shade, 
When  strangers  discovered  the  place, 

The  Lodge  of  Pe-bo-an  within  the  glade, 

Moulded  by  Se-gwun  to  never  fade. 
They  named  it  for  one  of  their  race. 


89 


THE  TWO  TALL  PINES  OF  PINEY  POINT. 


Gay    laughter    rang    upon    the 

air, 
From  blithe  young  braves  and 

maidens  fair; 
The  sport  ran  high  and  louder 

grew, 
And  round  the  circle  how  they 

flew; 
The  breath  of  pines  was  in  the 

air, 
And  all  was  mirth  and  laughter 

there. 

All?     There  was  one  with  lan 
guid  eye, 

With  sober  lips  that  sadly  sigh; 
She   moved  with  untaught  na 
tive  grace, 

A  look  of  sadness  on  her  face. 
The  brave  beside  her  bent  his 

head, 
And     gazing    at    her,     quickly 

said — 

"Oh,  laugh,  Lee-lin-au,  and  be  gay, 
To-morrow  is  our  wedding  day." 
The  game  went  on,  she  drew  apart 
With  tearful  eyes,  and  heavy  heart. 
What  mattered  all  her  grief  and  tears, 
Her  earnest  prayers  and  silent  fears; 


90 


THE   TWO   TALL  PINES  OF  PINET  POINT. 

The  chief,  her  father,  sternly  said 
That  on  the  morrow  she  must  wed— 
Must  wed  this  son  of  a  distant  chief 
And  took  no  heed  of  her  silent  grief. 
She  sought  the  lodge,  the  game  went  on; 
There  lay  the  clothes  that  she  must  don 
To-morrow  on  her  wedding  day! 
Outside  how  bright  the  laugh  and  play  ! 
With  wild  rebellion  in  her  face 
She  rushed  from  out  the  mocking  place 
To  a  weird  spot  far  from  her  home 
Where  stood  a  pine  tree,  tall  and  lone, 
That  towered  far  above  the  rest 
Upon  the  hilltop's  highest  crest. 
Here,  pausing  faint,  forlorn  and  weak, 
Against  the  bark  she  laid  her  cheek, 
And  murmured — "Oh,  my  tall  pine  tree, 
To-morrow  must  I  go  from  thee; 
From  home  and  people  go  afar 
Where  stranger  tribes  and  people  are — 
Go,  with  a  man  I  do  not  love, 
Out  in  the  far-off  world  to  rove." 
As  thus  she  stood  in  pensive  grace, 
A  look  of  wonder  crossed  her  face, 
For  far  above  her  leaning  head, 
Upon  the  breeze  these  words  were  said: 
*"  Maiden,  think  me  not  a  tree, 
But  thine  own  dear  lover  free; 
Tall  and  youthful  in  my  bloom, 
With  the  bright  green  nodding  plume. 
Thou  art  leaning  on  my  breast, 


*The  reply  of  the  pine  tree  is  taken  from  an  old  copy  of  School- 
craft. 


LEGENDS. 

Lean  forever  there  and  rest! 
Fly  from  man,  that  bloody  race, 
Pards,  assassins,  bold  and  base. 
Quit  their  din  and  false  parade 
For  the  quiet  lonely  shade. 
Leave  the  windy  birchen  cot 
For  my  own  bright,  happy  lot. 
O'er  thee  I  my  veil  will  fling, 
Light  as  beetle's  silken  wing. 
I  will  breathe  perfume  of  flowers 
O'er  thy  happy  evening  hours; 
I  will  in  my  shell  canoe 
Waft  thee  o'er  the  waters  blue; 
I  will  deck  thy  mantle's  fold 
With  the  sun's  last  rays  of  gold. 
Come,  and  on  the  summit  free 
Rove  a  fairy  bright  with  me." 


The  game  had  ceased,  and  far  and  wide, 
They  sought  the  maid  on  every  side: 
They  sought  her  by  her  father's  door, 
They  sought  along  the  rock  girt  shore. 
The  groom-to-be  searched  every  path, 
And  fierce  and  fiercer  grew  his  wrath; 
When,  glancing  up  the  hillside  high, 
A  strange  sight  met  his  startled  eye. 
Then  still  he  stood  in  blank  amaze 
And  kept  on  high  his  wand'ring  gaze; 
And  pointing  with  his  shaking  hand, 
All  eyes  looked  upward  from  the  band. 
Upon  the  hilltop,  towering  high, 
TWO  pines  stood  clear  against  the  sky- 


92 


THE   TWO   TALL  PINES  OF  PI  NET  POINT. 

Two  pines  stood  there  instead  of  one. 
Outlined  before  the  setting  sun. 
There  they  are  standing  to  this  day 
On  "Piney  Point"  so  far  away; 
The  tallest  pines  on  that  Island  seen, 
They  stand  there  clothed  in  living  green. 
The  taller  one  with  tender  pride, 
Shelt'ring  the  one  close  by  its  side. 
And  Lee-lin-au  was  ne'er  seen  more 
After  she  left  her  father's  door. 


93 


LEGENDS. 


FRIENDSHIP'S  ALTAR. 


FRIENDSHIP'S  ALTAR. 


Upon  a  height  the  "Altar"  stands, 
Where  once  there  gathered  dusky  bands 

In  days  of  long  ago. 
'Twas  here  their  teacher  daily  stood, 
Beside  this  "Altar"  in  the  wood 

His  knowledge  to  bestow. 

He  lessons  gave  the  gathered  band 
In  tilling  soil  and  planting  land 

With  crops  of  maize  or  wheat. 
He  taught  them  arts  of  land  and  sea, 
And  told  them  of  the  maple  tree 

With  stores  of  sugar  sweet. 

He  taught  them  how  to  make  the  dart. 
And  aim  it  at  the  shy  deer's  heart 

Before  it  left  the  bow. 
With  wonder  deep,  and  awed  amaze, 
They  watched  its  flight  with  staring  gaze 

And  saw  it  pierce  a  doe. 

He  taught  them  skins  to  cure  and  dress 
To  cover  their  wild  nakedness — 

This  man  of  ancient  fame. 
He  made  for  them  the  birch  canoe, 
To  buoyant  skim  the  waters  blue 

In  quest  of  sport  or  game. 


95 


LEGENDS. 

He  wove  for  them  a  fishing  net 
To  set  ia  lake  or  rivulet 

Beneath  the  water's  ebb; — 
And  for  a  pattern  of  the  snare 
He  pointed  down  'midst  tangles  where 

A  spider  spun  its  web. 

And,  flocking  there  to  hear  his  words, 
There  daily  gathered  scores  of  birds 

Of  every  kind  and  shade; 
"My  Little  Brothers"  was  the  name 
He  gave  these  flocks  that  daily  came 

And  sweetest  music  made. 

The  season  passed,  and  moons  went  by 
Still  by  his  "Altar"  towering  high, 

The  noble  leader  taught; 
And  some  progressed  in  skill  and  arts 
Till  others  envied  in  their  hearts 

And  mischief  thus  was  wrought. 

The  implements  of  sport  and  chase 
Were  used  in  war,  as  race  met  race- 

And  stained  with  gory  red. 
The  teacher  sad,  arid  grieving  stood 
Beside  the  "Altar"  in  the  wood; 

At  last  he  kindly  said: 

"I  came  among  you  arts  to  give 
Of  how  to  work  and  how  to  live, 

In  wise  and  perfect  life. 
Waste  not  the  time  in  battle's  fray, 
But  live  in  friendship  from  to-day, 

And  cease  this  cruel  strife." 


FRIENDSHIP'S  ALTAR. 

They  heeded  not  his  gentle  speech, 
And  broke  the  laws  he  strove  to  teach 

To  them  in  kindest  words: 
And  one  by  one  they  dropped  away, 
Until  at  last,  one  summer  day- 
There  only  came  the  birds. 

He  sadly  turned  and  faced  them  all, 
And  smiled  upon  them,  great  and  small, 

And  forth  they  burst  in  song. 
Then  hushing  all  the  gathered  band, 
As  close  they  flew  on  ev'ry  hand, 

He  thus  addressed  the  throng : 

"My  task,  'My  Brothers'  is  complete; 
I  journey  forth  new  tribes  to  meet; 

But  I  will  come  again. 
Your  part  will  be  to  sing  each  day, 
To  cheer  along  the  earthly  way 

The  plodding  feet  of  men. 

"All  sing  to  them  of  life  ahead, 
Beyond  the  dwellings  of  the  Dead, 

For  whom  they  mourn  and  weep; 
And  tell  them  I  will  come  once  more 
From  out  the  land,  beyond  the  shore 

Across  the  waters  deep." 

He  quickly  climbed  the  "Altar's"  height, 
And,  trailing  down  a  ladder  white 

Of  floating  tendrils  swept; 
He  stepped  upon  the  magic  vine, 
That  high  in  cloudland  seemed  to  twine, 

And  swiftly  upward  leapt. 


97 


LEGENDS. 

Along  the  ladder,  toward  the  blue, 
He  quickly  faded  from  the  view 

Of  all  the  gathered  throng. 
And  as  he  vanished  from  their  eyes 
Is  radiant  clouds  of  waiting  skies, 

Each  sang  a  different  song. 

And,  day  by  day,  by  forest  shrine, 
They  watched  to  see  the  trailing  vine, 

Come  sweeping  down  once  more. 
Their  tryst  was  vain.     They  scattered  wide 
And  sought  for  him  o'er  land  and  tide, 

Far  from  the  Island's  shore. 

The  hawks  and  falcons  soared  on  high 
To  seek  his  dwelling  in  the  sky, 

Within  the  cloudlands  fair; 
The  eagle  then  with  stronger  flight 
Winged  upward  far  from  mortal  sight 

In  regions  of  the  air. 

Petrels  and  gulls,  on  tireless  wing, 
Flew  o'er  the  deep  with  dipping  swing 

Of  teacher  kind  to  learn. 
While,  swimming  on  the  water's   breast, 
The  wild  fowl,  floating  in  the  quest, 

Were  joined  by  teal  and  tern. 

The  loon  dove  down  beneath  the  waves 
To  search  in  deeply  hidden  caves; 

And  as  in  days  of  yore — 
The  song-birds  warbled  songs  of  praise 
Taught  to  them  in  departed  days, 

Upon  the  Island's  shore. 


98 


FRIENDSHIP'S  ALT  A  JR. 

One  bird  there  was  who  could  not  sing, 
Nor  cleave  the  air  on  tireless  wing, 

Nor  breast  the  water's  foam; 
The  partridge  had  to  stupid  wait, 
With  naught  to  do  but  mourn  his  fate, 

Within  his  thicket  home. 

At  last  he  said,  "I'll  build  a  boat, 
Across  the  sea  to  swiftly  float, 

Our  absent  friend  to  find." 
He  started  then  with  utmost  speed 
To  build  a  craft  to  meet  his  need, 

And  suited  to  his  mind. 

The  birds  are  seeking  to  this  day, 
O'er  land  or  sea,  in  their  own  way, 

To  find  the  man  of  Good. 
And  still  the  drumming  sounds  betray 
The  partridge  as  he  works  away 

Within  the  silent  wood. 

The  Red  Men  say  this  Guide  once  more 
Will  seek  his  "Altar"  near  the  shore, 

From  out  his  cloud-walled  plain; 
He  only  waits  to  arrows  make 
Sufficient  to  each  white  life  take 

Before  he  comes  again. 


99 


THE  COLD  SPRING. 


Have  you  heard  of  the  fabled  Spring  so  cold. 

Where  the  sad  pine  trees  are  growing? 
The  clearest  Spring  that  was  ever  seen, 
Bursting  forth  'midst  the  bordering  green, 
Where  one  might  quaff,  and  forever  dream 

By  its  waters  softly  flowing? 
'Tis  not  in  the  realm  of  the  Gilded  One 

By  the  Ocklawaha's  tangle; 
Not  the  silver  spring  with  shining  sand, 
Hid  'midst  the  wilds  of  the  far  southland, 
Where  the  dark  palmettos  thickly  stand 

In  jungles  where  wild  beasts  mangle. 


100 


THE   COLD   SPRING. 


But  'tis  far  away  on  a  Northern 

Isle 

Is  this  Spring  of  ancient  story, 
Deep  in  the  wood  flowed  its  waters 

sweet, 
Where  paths  were  worn  by  the  red 

man's  feet 
For    here,    as    the    sun    set,    they 

would  meet 

To  tell  of  the  chase,  the  glory. 
Oh,  Nature,   why  shelter  thy  red 

son's  way, 

To  him  all  thy  secrets  giving; 
Of    woods,    the   streams,    and   the 

changing  sky, 

Or  the  eagle  soaring  far  on  high, 
While  we  pass  thy  marvels  blindly 

by? 
Lead  us  closer  to  thee  in  living! 

A     wonderful     secret     this     clear 

Spring  had, 

Hidden  deep  by  shade  and  boul 
der. 

If  each  new  moon  they  would  seek  its  brink, 
And  its  purling  waters  freely  drink, 
From  weak  old  age  they  need  never  shrink— 

For  never  would  they  grow  older. 
And  they  brought  their  gifts  and  cast  them  in 

For  the  Turtle  God  there  sleeping: 
Rings,  and  arrows,  and  peace  pipes  of  reed. 
Gifts  made  from  the  snowy  wampum  bead. 
And  all  things  a  Turtle  God  might  need 
Were  offered  there  for  his  keeping. 


101 


LEGENDS. 

But  all  this  happened  in  the  far-off  days, 

When  by  old  tradition's  telling, 
Were  all  of  the  hills  and  valleys  deep, 
And  each  sylvan  vale  and  rocky  steep. 
And  murmuring  spring,  and  cascade's  leap 

Some  spirit's  deep-hidden  dwelling. 
But  those  old  days  of  peace  flew  quickly  by. 

And  came  the  loud  din  of  battle. 
Above  the  charmed  Spring  upon  the  plain, 
They  met,  and  struggled  with  might  and  main  ; 
There  were  groans  of  death  and  cries  of  pain, 

And  wild  battle's  ceaseless  rattle! 

And  many  were  slaughtered  upon  that  time, 

In  their  own  red  life  blood  lying; 
And  some  crept  feebly  down  the  hill 
Their  slowly  stiffening  hands  to  fill, 
To  slacken  their  death  thirst  at  the  rill 

Before  they  fell  forward  dying. 
From  that  baleful  time  when  the  dying  came 

Down  among  the  pines  and  myrtle, 
In  the  quiet  cool,  to  fainting  sink, 
As  they  feebly  bent  above  to  drink. 
There  vanished  forever  from  the  brink 

The  charmed  spirit  of  the  Turtle. 

The  Spring  you  would  pass  unknowing  to-day, 

For  gone  are  the  shade  and  boulder; 
All  cleared  away  by  the  white  man's  hand 
But  a  few  old  scattered  cedars  stand 
Where  once  there  gathered  a  chieftain  band 

To  quaff  and  never  grow  older. 
But  it  bubbles  forth  to  this  very  day, 

Where  a  few  lone  trees  are  growing, 
Just  at  the  foot  of  the  sloping  hill. 
But  the  breath  of  death  is  in  it  still, 
For  its  waters  run  forth  icy  chill— 

Those  waters  so  softly  flowing. 


102 


THE  "INDIAN  PIPES"— THE  GHOST  FLOWER. 


WALKED    o'er    an    Isle    by    the    North    Seas 

swept, 

Where  never  a  sound  of  the  great  world  crept 
Into  its  solitudes;   and  I  thought  the  while 
Of  the  weary  discord,  the  pomp  and  style 
In  the  world  outside.     As  I  looked  at  the  trees 
Sighing  soft  and  low  in  the  gentle  breeze; 
At  the  flowers  low  clustering  at  my  feet, 
Shedding  here  in  secret  their  fragrance  sweet — 
I  thought,  were  it  not  a  far  better  part, 
To  learn  thy  sweet  lessons — Oh,  Nature's  heart; 
Than  to  garner  in  wealth  of  worldly  store, 
And  hunger,  and  labour,  and  thirst  for  more 
That  we  must  leave  behind? 

When  we  go  forth 

Into  the  Great  Unknown,  what  is  their  worth? 
All  the  world  lost  to  me — my  heart  in  tune 
With  the  whispering  trees  and  the  flowers  abloom, 
I  wandered  on.     The  silent  forest  wide 
Held  me,  a  willing  captive,  on  every  side. 

A  small  glade  lay  before  me  moist  with  dew. 
For  the  ardent  sun  could  not  get  through 
The  leafy  dome.     How  pure  the  air,  and  sweet ; 
And  how  cool  the  moss  to  my  straying  feet. 

Here  I  sank  to  rest  by  a  mighty  stone, 
Perchance  by  the  great  Man-a  boz-ho  thrown 
At  Key-bey-on,  his  sire;  when,  silvery  white, 
A  cluster  of  "Ghost  Flowers"  met  my  sight; 
And  so  pale,  waxen  white,  these  blossoms  were, 


103 


LEGENDS. 

That  they  seemed  like  some  wraith  from  its  sepulchre. 
Not  the  faintest  colour  marked  their  gleam, 
And  they  stood  like  the  flowers  in  a  dream. 

With  wonder  I  gazed  on  each  waxen  head. 
For,  while  living  and  blooming,  they  still  seemed  dead  ; 


Wraiths  seeking  their  tomb  in  the  chilly  ground 
They  seemed,  drooping  their  heads  o'er  the  mossy 

mound. 

There  I  sat  and  watched  them,  as  still  as  they, 
For  it  seemed  that  a  breath  would  waft  them  away, 


104 


THE  "INDIAN  PIPES"— THE  GHOST  FLOWER. 

How  still  the  woods;  not  the  call  of  a  bird 
Or  the  hum  of  an  insect;  no  branchlet  stirred. 
Long,  long  I  sat  in  this  green  mossy  seat, 
When  I  saw  a  mist  at  the  "Ghost  Flower's"  feet; 
A  mist  that  arose,  and  then  sank  from  view; 
But  again  it  appeared,  and  higher  grew, 
And  widened.     Then,  to  my  fear  and  amaze. 
An  Indian  Chief  met  my  startled  gaze! 
But  his  eyes  beamed  kind  from  his  painted  face, 
And  all  the  fear  of  the  Red  Man's  race 
Left  me.      Hark!     He  spoke;  and  his  voice  was  low 
As  of  bubbling  streamlets  in  their  flow; 
And,  though  'twas  a  language  I  had  not  heard, 
I  understood  clearly  his  slightest  word. 

But,  hark!     "Maid  so  white,  have  no  fear  of  me, 
But,  list  to  the  story  I  tell  to  thee! 
For  Pe-bo-an,  the  icy  Winter  old, 
Many  long  moons  o'er  my  lodge  so  cold 
Has  piled  his  great  snow-drifts  deep  and  high 
All  about  the  small  wigwam  where  I  lie; 
So,  maiden  so  white,  have  no  fear  of  me; 
But  hark  to  the  story  I  tell  to  thee: 
Many  moons  has  Nif-fon,  the  Summer  fair, 
Scattered  flowers  above  me,  slumbering  there; 
This  mis-ko-deed,  and  the  'Ghost  Flower'  white, 
Have  marked  my  lodge  through  the  Summer  night. 

Wherever  you  see  a  'Ghost  Flower'  grow, 
Know  that  some  Warrior  is  sleeping  below; 
So  tread  not  rude  on  his  unmarked  grave. 
Where  the  'Indian  Pipes' — the  'Ghost  Flowers'  wave. 

I,  the  richest  Warrior  of  my  race, 
Was  so  cold  with  pride,  that  my  haughty  face 
Made  all  tremble. 


105 


LEGENDS. 

But,  how  I  longed  to  gaze 
At  my  piled-up  wealth,  in  those  far-off  days. 
But,  stern  Pau-guk  whispered  that  I  must  go 
To  his  Hunting  Grounds,  from  my  wealth  below; 
And,  as  Death  is  stern,  and  must  be  obeyed  ; 
I  called  all  my  people  who  were  afraid 
To  disobey;  then,  I  this  council  gave; 
'Bury  all  of  my  riches  in  my  grave!' 

With  my  feet  to  the  east,  they  laid  me  here; 
With  my  wampum,  my  arrows,  and  hunting  gear; 
And  they  packed  in  my  narrow  wigwam  bed 
Skins  of  bison,  and  bear  around  my  head: 
And  their  weight  is  so  great,  that  here  I  stay, 
For  I  cannot  lift  the  burden  away! 

My  brothers  have  long  reached  the  Hunting  Ground, 
Where  the  Great  Good  Master  of   Life   is  found ; 
But  here  I  lie,  burdened  with  my  load, 
And  the  camp  fires  out  on  the  'Spirit  Road.'  ' 
A  bright  ray  of  light  pierced  the  leafy  dome. 
And  I  sat  in  the  stillness  there — alone! 
As  a  mist  slowly  sinking  away  from  sight 
In  the  cold  damp  earth  by  the  "Ghost  Flowers"  white, 
He  went !     Like  the  spray  that  is  blown  from  the  sea ; 
And  a  hush  I  could  feel,  enveloped  me! 
Then,  I  slowly  turned  from  my  green  mossy  seat 
But  only  the  flowers  my  eyes  did  meet! 

Was  it  a  pale  wraith  I  saw  that  day? 
Or  was  it  some  trick  of  a  wild  dream's  play? 
But  I  left  the  spot  with  conviction  deep, 
That  under  the  flowers  did  a  Warrior  sleep; 
And  I  ne'er  see  a  "Ghost  Flower"  lift  its  head. 
But  I  think  it  grows  on  the  grave  of  the  dead. 


1 06 


LOVER'S  LEAP. 


The  O-me-me,  the  wood  pig 
eon,  called  low  his  plain 
tive  note, 

'Twas  echoed  by  his  partner 
from  her  glossy  pale-gray 
throat: 

And  a  maiden's  head  was  lift 
ed,  as  off  across  the  hill 

Came  the  call,  thrice  repeat 
ed,  of  a  distant  whip- 
poor-will. 

One  instant  she  stood  list'- 
ning,  with  hand  upon 
her  breast — 

How  lithe  was  she,  and  slen 
der,  in  embroidered 
buckskin  dressed ; 

Then  poising  slightly  for 
ward,  from  without  her 
dusky  throat 

She  answered,  as  the  wood 
dove  had,  the  thrice-re 
peated  note. 

As  the  call  was  softly  echoed, 
the    leaves   were    thrust 
apart, 
And  her  lover,  pale  with  fasting,  quick  clasped  her  to  his 

heart. 

"My  fast  is  done,  U-lis-ke,   and   thrice   did   there  come 
to  me 


107 


LEGENDS. 


A  Man-i-to  of  battle — so  a  chieftain 

shall  I  be; 
He  came  in  form  of  Kingfisher  to  my 

lone  wigwam  door — 
He  will  be  my  Man-i-to  when  I  leave 

this  Island's  shore; — 
For  to-night  I  call  my  warriors — we 

go  at  break  of  day 
To  meet  tribes  of  enemies  many  long 

moons  away." 
"Oh  must  you  go,   Gen-ew-e-gon? 

The  time  will  weary  be, 
I  have'^waited  days  here,  lonely,  for 

you  to  come  to  me!" 
"  Ne-ne-moo-sha,    ah,    my    sweet 
heart,  I  must  go  far  away, 
All  would  taunt  me,  call  me  woman, 

if  longer  I  delay. 
Hark,  U-lis-ke,  weep  not,  and  listen, 

dear  one,  now  to  me 
While  I  tell  thee  of  the  visions,  which 

thrice  mine  eyes  did  see. 

'Twas  at  the  time  of  midnight,  as  I  lay  in   slumber  deep, 
'The-Old-Woman-That-Makes-The-War'  awoke   me   from 

my  sleep! 
Her  mantle  was  scalps  of  women,   her   staff   the   heads   of 

birds, 

All  singing  various  songs  in  gay  concert  with   her   words; 
vStern  was  her  face,  and  haggard,  as  she  slow   approached 

my  bed, 

Her  voice  like  Evil  Spirits,  as  she  shook  her  staff  and  said: 
'Thy  long  fast  to-night  is  ended,  and  the   time   has  come 

to  thee 
When  thou  shalt  be  a  chieftain  ;  now  hearken  awell  to  me! 


LOVER'S  LEAP. 

Sail  to  Ish-Kwan-Da-i-me-ka,  the  keeper  of  the  gates, 

The  ruler  of  the  gate-ways  on  all  of  the  mighty  lakes. 

And  when  tnou  pass  his  lodge  gates  with  thy  noble  warrior 
band, 

Gather  scalps  and  wealth  in  plenty  from  thy  tribe's  right 
ful  land!' 
And  fierce  she  shook  her  war-staff,  while  uttering  every 

word, 

And  following,  song  after  song,  chimed  in  each  kind  of 
bird. 

Then  taking  from  among  them  a  Kingfisher  bird  of   blue, 

She  said — 'I  give  this  bird  so  strong  as  Man-i-to  to   you! 

Wear  proud  his  tuft  of  feathers,  high  upon  thy  chieftain's 
crest; 

Now  if  thou  disobey  me,  may  my  curses  fill  thy  breast!' 

Thus  three  times  she  came  to  me,  and  this  self-same  coun 
cil  gave, 

And   told   me   where   to  journey,  far  beyond  the  Big-Sea- 
Wave. 

So  must  I  call  my  warriors,  with  them  all  to  break  my  fast, 

Meet   me,    U-lis-ke,    sweetheart,  on  this  bluff  when  day  is 
past. 

This  morn  I  saw  an  eagle  sailing  high  above  the  sea, 

And  by  his  flight  he  told  me,  I  shall  victorious  be." 

"Gen-ew-e-gon,  I'll  meet  thee,  but  my   heart  is  aching 
sore, 

I  fear,  my  noble  chieftain,  I  shall  never  see  thee  more!" 
He  summoned  all  his  warriors  and  they   listened   to  his 
words, 

Of  the  fierce  "  War- Woman"  telling — with  staff  of  singing 
birds; 

They  hailed  him   mighty   chieftain,  when   he   showed   his 
bright  blue  crest, 

He  sat  and  planned  the  battle  til)  the  red  sun  sank  to  rest. 


109 


LEGENDS. 

Then  in    the    war   dance  joining  round   the   camp   fire's 

blazing  light, 
Their  wild  songs  and  ringing  war-cries  rose  high  upon  the 

night. 

And  as  they  launched  their  che-mauns  on  ripp'ling  moon 
lit  tide, 
The  chieftain  donned  his  crest  of  blue   and   sought   U-lis- 

ke's  side 
And  though  he  longed  for  battle,  he  forgot  the  chieftain's 

crest, 
As  he  smoothed  the  dusky   tresses  laid   close  against  his 

breast. 
He  whispered — "I'll  return,  love — breathe  a  spell  upon  my 

bow, 

That  my  aim  be  sure  in  battle,  I  slay  my  every  foe. 
Ne-ne-moo-sha,  when  returning,  this  tow'ring  cliff   I  see, 
Waiting,  may  I  find  thee,  love,  here  alone  to  welcome  me. ' ' 
From  hiding  in  her  bosom,  forth  she  drew   a   strand   of 

hair, 
Close-joined  with  snowy  agate,  gleaming  like  some  crystal 

rare; 
This  about  his  shoulders  clasping  as  in  grief  he   bent   his 

head, 
A  kiss  she  pressed  upon  his  forehead,  burst  into  tears  and 

fled. 
On  the  height  he  stood   alone   with   the  charm   upon   his 

breast, 
The   night   breeze  softly   fanning   the  spot   her  lips   had 

pressed. 
The  mist  lay  on  the  waters,  when  at  dawn   they  sailed 

away ; 

On  dewy  laden  branches,  waking  birds  proclaimed  the  day  ! 
On  the  cliff  stood  U-lis-ke,  there  she  saw   them  leave   the 

sand, 


no 


LOVER'S  LEAP. 

Her  lover  in  his  che-maun,  leading  all  the  painted  band : — 
But  every   paddle   rested   when  they  reached  the  waters 

deep — 

This  chant  of  supplication  floated  up  along  the  steep. 
*"Oh,  hear  us,  Thou  Great  Good  Spirit — you  who  have 

made  this  lake, 

Hearken  to  us,  your  children,  for  we  ask  you  now  to  take 
Care  of  us  on   our  journey.      Keep  all   the  great    waters 

calm 
Till    we  pass    them    o'er    in    safety.'"     Then    gay  they 

floated  on 
After  dropping   in   their  ofFrings   of   beads  or   wampum 

bright; 
He  watched  the  cliff,  she  his  barque,  till  distance  dimmed 

their  sight. 
They  left  the  "Turtle   Island"  in   the   balmy   moon   of 

flowers, 
And   to  the   maiden   lonely,    slowly   passed    the    waiting 

hours: — 
But  she  worked  on  beaded  garments  to  grace  her  wedding 

day, 

Her  fancy  ever  following  her  lover  far  away. 
And  with  the  hand-wrought  flowers  and   quills   of   gaudy 

hue, 

She  wove  in   sweetest   mem'ries  of  that  absent  lover  true. 
Thus  went  by  the  days  of  summer,    the  autumn   nights 

grew  chill, 

And  maples  'mong  the  cedars,  turned  crimson  on  the  hill. 
Then  came  the  moon  of  fruitage,  bringing  forth  her  winter 

store — 

U-lis-ke  watched  the  waters  from  the  cliff  above  the  shore. 
Five  moons  had  filled  and  faded   when   U-lis-ke   on   the 

steep 

*The  substance  of  these  chants  were  taken  from  Schoolcraft. 


LEGENDS. 

Stood  alone  one  early  morning,  looking  out  upon  the  deep. 
Fog  lay   thick   upon  the  waters,  mists  ghost-like  cold  and 

white, 
The  distant  waters  hiding  from   her  longing  tear-dimmed 

sight. 
Long  she   stood   there   silent,   watching,    when   from   the 

gathered  gloom 

Came  discordant  crying  of  a  weird,  ill-omened  loon. 
Came   toward   her   slowly   flying,  poising   on   its  mist-wet 

wing; 
And   hov'ring   low,    seemed  saying — "I  to  you  a  message 

bring 

From  Gen-i-we-gon,  thy  lover,  who  sailed  across  the  tide, 
Vain  is  thy  watch.  U-lis-ke,  he'll  ne'er  journey  to  thy  side. 
He  sits  on  field  of  battle  leaning  back  against  a  tree, 
Looking  toward  the  hostile  country  with  eyes  that  do  not 

see. 
A  tuft  of  bright  blue  feathers  waves  upon   his  chieftain's 

crest, 

His  trusty  bow  is  leaning  close  against  his  silent  breast. 
His  warriors  are  returning — hear  you   not  their  distant 

cry? 

The  mists  their  forms  are  hiding  as  they  onward  swiftly  fly. 
Now  farewell — poor  U-lis-ke."     Then   he   fluttered   from 

her  side. 

wShe  gazed  with  eyes  of  anguish  off  across  the   misty   tide, 

A  faint  chant  from  the   waters   near  and   nearer  drew 

And  from  out  the  fog  white   clinging,  they  paddled  into 

view. 
With   wild   eyes   madly   gleaming,   she  looked  down  upon 

the  boats; 
Their  sa-sa-kwan,    their   war-cry,    up   the   rocky   hill-side 

floats: 


112 


LOVER'S  LEAP. 

"We  have  met,  fought  and   conquered,  the   strong  and 

the  brave, 

See  the  eagle  plumes  nod,  and  the  red  trophies  wave! 
We  have  fought  like  our  fathers,  and  scorn  to  be  slaves — 
The  sons  of  a  noble  race,  scorn  to  be  slaves! 
And  he,  where  is  he,  who  led  on  to  the  fight, 
Whose  arrow  was  death,  and  whose  war  club  was   might? 
He  sits  on  the  battle-field  facing  the  foe, 
Still  wearing  his  blue  crest,  and  holding  his  bow! 
We  fought  like  our  fathers,  and  scorn  to  be  slaves; 
The  sons  of  a  noble  race  scorn  to  be  slaves!" 

She  seemed   to  see   the    battle-field   across  the   waters 

drear — 
Seemed  to  see  Gen-i-we-gon  as   their   death    chant   smote 

her  ear. 

"Gen-i-we-gon,  I'm  waiting  on  the  cliff  above  the  sea — 
Just  as  you  bid   me,  sweetheart,    here   alone,    to   welcome 

thee!" 

As  wildly  she  was  calling  for  the  lost  Gen-i-we-gon, 
From  the  waters  far  below  her,  the  death  chant  sounded  on. 
"Let  all  men  mourn  and  weep.    Oh,  weep  for  the  dead, 
He  sleeps  on  field  of  battle,  his  war  crest  on  his  head. 
Oh,  let  your  hearts  be  sore  for  him.      Let  all  eyes  weep. 
We  were  once  a  mighty  people.    Oh,  sorrow  long  and  deep. 
All  our  hearts  are  as  one  heart.     Oh,  weep  for  the  dead. 
He  sleeps  upon  the  battle-field,  his  war  crest  on  his  head." 
They   passed    the    rock,    high-towering,    where   she   his 

brow  had  kissed; 
Their  chant  grew  faint  and  fainter  as  they  vanished  in  the 

mist. 
Then  her  voice  arose  in  anguish  "My  heart   is   torn   with 

pain, 

To  know  thee  silent  sitting  where  the  chilling  autumn  rain 
And  icy  snows  of  winter  will  be  drifting  o'er  thee  free! 


Oh,  Gen-i-we-gon,  my  sweetheart,  I  die  for  love  of  thee!" 
And  e'en  as  she  was  calling,  to  her  side  there  swiftly  flew 
A  bird  with  medal  on  his  breast  and  crest  of  vivid  blue. 
It  circled  slowly  round  her,  then  perched  upon  a  tree — 
It  was  a  Kingfisher  of  blue — a  ke-ske-mun-i-see! 
It  poised  upon  a  bending  bough  with  sad  and  solemn  cry, 
And  gazed  at  her  quite  fearlessly  with  bright  and  piercing 

eye. 

She  looked  with  eyes  of  wonder  at  the  fearless  crested  bird, 
She  spoke  to  him  in  words  of  love,  as  though  he  knew  and 

heard. 

l'Thou  hast  heard  my  voice  of  anguish,  my  cry  of  wail 
ing  woe 

And  hastened  here  to  meet  me  in  the  form  of  Man-i-to! 
Gen-i-we-gon,  I  know  thee !  Thou  hast  journed  here  to  me 
And  thou  wearest  on  thy  bosom  the  charm  I  gave  to  thee! 
I  know  thee  by  the  medal  there  upon  thy  painted  breast! 
I  know  thee  by  the  eagle  eye  that  gleams  beneath  thy  crest ! 
Thou  look'st  at  me  so  knowingly,  wilt  thou  point  out  the  road 
Where  I  may  find  thee  as  thou  wert?  Oh,  to  thy  new  abode 
I  too,  would  come,  Gen-i-we-gon,  my  lover  bold  and  true, 
There  to  find  thee  as  a  Chieftain  and  not  a  bird  of  blue! 
Fly  north,  or  south,  or  east,  or  west,  thou  Spirit  Man-i-to 
And  wheresoever  thou  goest,  I.  thy  own  love,  will  go!" 

An  echo  seemed  repeated,  faint  and  far  across  the  hill, 
The  calling,  thrice  repeated,  of  a  sad-toned  whip-poor-will. 
One  moment  did  the  Kingfisher  to  low  bough  closely  cling, 
One  instant  hovered  'round  her,  as  though  on  aimless  wing  ; 
Then  o'er  the  brink,  straight  downward,  it  fluttered  from 

the  steep. 

She  glided  to  the  dizzy  verge  as  one  who   walks   in   sleep. 
She  looked,  with  eyes  unseeing,  far  across  the  misty  sea; 
Then  murmured  low-"  I  am  com  ing,  Gen-i-we-gon,  to  thee!" 
Just  one  step  more  and  on  the  rocks  she  fell  from  heights 

above! 
And  the  spirit  of  U-lis-ke  went  forth  to  meet  her  love! 


114 


DEVIL'S  KITCHEN. 


Swift  skimming  the  waters  that  lapped  on  the  sand, 

Came  many  a  chemaun  from  over  the  strand. 

Some  warriors  thus  landed  in  birchen  canoe; 

Some  hastened  through  valleys  all  moistened  with  dew. 

They    came   threading    woodlands,    and    down"pathways 

rough ; 

All  seeking  the  foot  of  the  towering  bluff. 
Here,  glimmed  a  fire  in  a  crevice  of  stone, 
That,  lighting  the  night,  in  a  half  circle  shone. 
The  glow  made  each  ripple  to  blush  on  the  beach; 
It  strove,  ever  rampant,  the  cedars  to  reach. 
It  lit  up  the  company  gathered  around: 
Their  shadows  extended,  lay  on  the  ground. 


LEGENDS. 

The  word  had  been  issued  to  each  Island  brave 

To  meet  with  old  Kenan  that  night  by  his  cave. 

For  he,  in  his  wanderings  deep  in  the  wood, 

With  the  "Giant  Fairies"  had  face  to  face  stood. 

So  they  came  to  hearken,  this  bronze,  stalwart  band 

To  their  coming  victories  over  the  land. 

For  the  spirits  who  come  from  under  the  Isle, 

With  poor  lonely  mortal  to  linger  awhile, 

Endow  him  with  power  of  the  future  to  tell 

And  cast  on  his  fellows  a  magical  spell. 

Old  Kenau  came  forward,  and  into  the  flame 

Cast  tokens  and  herbs  of  a  mystical  fame; 

The  glow  lit  his  features  so  withered  and  old, 

And  this  is  the  story  the  old  prophet  told:— 

"I,  old  Ken-au, 

The  Fairies  saw 
From  the  land  of  Chib-i-a-bos; 

From  caverns  deep, 

Where  spirits  sleep, 
They  stole  forth  like  the  wau-bos. 
Up  from  the  arch,  the  little  arch, 
The  gateway  to  their  dwelling, 


116 


DEVIL'S  KITCHEN. 

'Neath  sombre  larch,  with  silent  march, 
They  came,  this  story  telling; 

''Where  wind  and  wave 
The  wide  beach  lave, 
Where  'Friendship  Rock'  is  standing. 
Will  many  bands, 
From  distant  lands, 


Of  white  men  make  a  landing. 
And  from  the  height,  the  rocky  height 
Will  peal  their  speaking  thunder; 
And  by  its  might,  its  flashing  might, 
Can  rocks  be  torn  asunder. 

"Within  the  wood, 

Where  wigwams  stood, 
Will  arise  the  white  man's  city; 

We  graves  will  fill, 

Upon  the  hill, 

Unknown  to  strangers'  pity. 
Nor  through  the  glade,  the  hidden  glade, 
Will  we  seek  the  hare,  the  wau-bos; 


117 


LEGENDS. 

Nor  'neath  the  shade,  the  bending  shade 
Will  we  catch  the  pike,  jik-on-sis. 

"The  Wind  of  Snow, 
Will  blust'ring  blow, 
From  3ut  the  northland  blinding, 
And  search  in  vain, 
O'er  wood  and  plain, 
Without  a  red  man  finding. 
And  in  its  breath,  its  freezing  breath 
Across  the  lands  we  cherish, 
Will  hasten  death,  cold,  silent  death, 
And  then  will  white  men  perish. 

"The  birch  canoe, 

O'er  waters  blue, 
No  more  will  skim  the  river; 

No  arrow  high 

Will  cleave  the  sky, 
From  the  fallen  red  man's  quiver. 
Nor  on  the  ledge,  the  rocky  ledge, 
Will  we  hunt  the  bear,  the  yek-was; 
Nor  in  the  sedge,  the  marshy  sedge, 
Will  we  hear  the  frog,  da-hin-da. 

"From  sunset  lands, 

Of  crimson  sands. 
Will  come  the  West  Wind  blowing; 

But  on  the  shore, 

We'll  walk  no  more. 

Where  the  Sweet-Sea-Waves  are  flowing. 
Nor  on  the  wave,  the  heaving  wave, 
Will  he  haste  our  che-maun's  fleeting, 
But  in  some  grave,  some  silent  grave, 
Will  he  murmur  o'er  our  sleeping. 


118 


DEVIL'S  KITCHEN. 

"Neath  bounding  wave, 

In  hidden  cave, 
Will  sleep  some  of  our  number; 

The  monster  boat 

Will  o'er  us  float, 
And  ne'er  disturb  our  slumber. 
Nor  in  the  wood,  the  shaded  wood, 
Will  we  hunt  the  deer — skan-o-do; 
Nor  on  the  flood,  the  bounding  flood 
Will  we  catch  the  trout,  do-a-to. 


"From  sunrise  seas 

The  eastern  breeze 
Will  breathe  o'er  dew-wet  valley, 

Or,  damp  and  chill. 

Across  the  hill, 

With  moaning  pine  trees  dally. 
Within  the  wood,  the  darksome  wood. 
Where  camp-fires  once  were  gleaming, 
Or  in  the  flood,  the  rolling  flood, 
He'll  find  us  silent  dreaming. 


119 


LEGENDS. 

"Ourselves  forgot, 

Our  boats  will  rot, 
And  lie  along  the  waters; 

While  we  will  sleep 

The  slumber  deep. 
With  all  our  sons  and  daughters. 
Nor  on  the  lake,  the  shining  lake, 
Will  we  hunt  the  wild  goose,  wa-wa; 
Nor  through  the  brake,  the  bending  brake, 
Will  we  seek  the  wild  duck,  so-ra. 


-•-• 


"The  scented  breeze, 
From  southern  seas, 
Will  rouse  us  with  its  weeping; 

And  when  we've  found 
The  'Hunting  Ground,' 
We'll  waken  from  our  sleeping. 
Beyond  the  sea,  the  sunset  sea, 
We'll  leave  the  strangers'  city, 
And  wander  free,  forever  free, 
Beyond  his  wrath,  or  pity." 


120 


DEVIL'S  KITCHEN. 

They  silently  left  him  there,  chanting  the  tale, 

To  haste  o  er  the  isle,  or  in  che-mauns  set  sail ; 

Old  'Mud-jee  Mon-e-do'  was   he  from  that  night; 

His  camp-fire  they  shunned,  for  they  said  it  could   blight, 

Poor  'Mud-jee  Mon-e-do,'  spirit  of  evil! 

His  message,  they  said,  came  from  the  devil. 


Old  Kenau  has  long  viewed  the  fair  "Hunting  Ground,' 
But  still  in  the  rock  may  his  fire-place  be  found. 
Grown  thickly  about  with  mosses  and  lichen, 
It  is  known  to  this  day,  as  the  "Devil's  Kitchen  " 


121 


SHA-WON-DAS-SEE. 


From  his  fragrant  bowers  of  jasmine, 

By  the  broad  and  deep  lagoon, 
Where  magnolias  shed  their  fragrance 

Sweet  upon  the  sultry  moon; 
Sha-won-das-see  gazed  to  Northward, 

Gazed  with  drowsy  eyes  grown  bold 
To  where,  standing  on  an  Island, 

Was  a  maid  with  hair  of  gold. 

All  day  long  he  gazed  upon  her, 

And  at  night  he  breathed  her  name; 
Days  passed  by,  and  still  she  lingered, 


122 


$  HA- WON- DAS-SEE. 

Loit'ring  on  the  grassy  plain. 
Green  her  robes  as  woodland  fairy, 

Bright  her  circling  crown  of  hair; 
Winning  wanton  straying  sunbeams, 

Holding  them  as  captives  there. 

He,  a  suitor  slow  in  wooing, 

Content  to  watch  her  through  the  day, 
And  to  lie  in  perfumed  bowers 

Dreaming  moonlit  hours  away. 
But  one  morn  when  he  looked  Northward- 

What  a  spectre  met  his  sight. 
All  her  sunny  hair  had  vanished, 

And  her  head  was  crowned  in  white. 

Then  he  moaned,  and  sighed  in  anger, 

And  a  mist  of  silv'ry  hue 
Floated  from  her  snowy  head-dress, 

And  she  faded  from  his  view. 
He,  the  South  Wind,  Sha-won-das-see, 

Laggard  lover,  lazy  scion; 
She,  the  fair  one  on  the  Island, 

Was  the  saucy  Dandelion. 

Ah,  old  South  Wind,  why  so  tardy? 
Know  you  not  that  such  gold  fades? 

Think  you  youth  will  last  forever? 
Sigh  not  so,  but  woo  the  maids. 

Still  your  sighs  to  us  are  welcome 

When  your  Northern  sweethearts  die; 

Then  your  breath  is  Indian  Summer- 
So  sigh,  Sha-won-das-see,   sigh. 


123 


PONTIACS  LOOKOUT. 


The  sun  sank  low  above  the  wave, 
And  in  the  waters  seemed  to  lave 
As  though  to  wash  the  paint  away 
That  stained  his  face  with  war's  array. 
Until  the  light  began  to  dim, 

A  warrior  looked  across  the  Strait 
Upon  the  old  fort,  stern  and  grim, 

And  formed  his  plans  of  ruthless  hate. 
Alone  his  vigil  there  he  kept, 
Save  where  his  dusky  brothers  slept; 
Their  battles  fought  and  they  at  rest 
Within  the  Island's  sacred  breast. 
The  ruler  he,  this  chieftain  swarth, 
Of  all  the  red  men  in  the  North. 


124 


PON TIA  C' S  L  O OKO U T. 


The  night  passed  by,  and  from  the 

Isle, 

Upon  the  early  morning's  smile, 
Ascended  smoke  of  sombre  hue 
Athwart  the  freshness  of  the  blue; 
It  rose  in  dark,  then  lighter  tone, 
From  gathered  leaves  in  tuft  and 

shock, 

Arranged  upon  the  lofty  stone 
Known  to  this  day  as  "Chimney 

Rock." 

And  every  hue  of  murky  stain, 
To  gleaming  eyes  of  wood  or  plain, 
Conveyed    a    language    known    to 

ail- 
That  bid  them  answer  to  the  call 
Of  Pontiac,  their  leader  stern, 
His  stratagem  of  war  to  learn. 


From  isle  to  isle,  from  shore  to  shore, 
The  signs,  repeated  o'er  and  o'er, 
Went  speeding  on  from  band  to  band 
Of  waiting  tribes,  through  all  the  land. 
The  white  men  watched  their  gardens  grow, 

And  gave  a  sigh  of  deep  content; 
Or  told  of  battles  long  ago, 

And  read  no  signs  of  war's  ferment. 
The  soldiers  lightened  work  with  play 
To  pass  away  the  lagging  day, 
Nor  knew  that  cross  the  gleaming  Strait 
Keen  eyes  looked  out  with  scheming  hate, 
As  the  Indian  emperor,  Pontiac, 
Perfected  plans  of  death  and  rack. 


125 


LEGENDS. 

The  time  went  by;  the  warriors  came 
In  answer  to  the  signal   flame, 
And  dropped,  for  then,  all  tribal  hate, 
In  banded  strength  their  wrongs  to  sate. 
No  monarch  ere  upon  his  throne 

Held  greater  dignity  or  sway, 
Than  on  the  cliff  of  unwrought  stone, 

Did  Pontiac  that  fair  spring  day. 
There  were  Wyandots,  and  Chippewas, 
The  Shawanese  and  Ottawa^; 
The  Hurons  bold,  that  warlike  race, 
With  Dela wares  met  face  to  face; 
The  Miami  forgot  his  pride 
And  waited  by  the  Mingo's  side. 

Then  Pontiac  rose,  dark  and  tall, 
And  thus  addressed  the  warriors  all — 
"You  Chieftains  brave,  from  many  bands, 
Unite  in  strength  your  warring  hands 
To  drive  these  wretches  from  our  shore, 

Who  come  with  smiles  but  stay  to  cheat! 
Who  drive 'us  from  our  own  lodge  door, 

To  trample  us  beneath  their  feet! 
We  fed  them,  and  they  took  our  land; 
They  drive  us  on — a  severed  band! 
They  brought  with  them  the  speaking  gun, 
And  waters  that  like  hot  fire  run. 
With  gifts  like  these,  they  buy  our  right, 
And  still  we  dare  not  turn  and  fight! 

"Who  said  we  dare  not  turn  on  them 
And  break  them  like  a  rotten  stem! 
Not  you,  my  Chief!     Nor  you !     Nor  you  ! 
No.      They  shall  have  from  us  their  due! 


126 


PONT/ AC9 S  LOOKOUT. 

They  do  not  know  the  Indian   Braves, 
With  wood  and  stream  their  heritage! 

We  never  Chiefs,  will  be  their  slaves, 
And  sell  to  them  our  parentage! 

They  came  and  overpowered  the  French, 

But  they  shall  not  the  Red  Man  quench! 

These  lakes  and  rivers  hold  our  food, 

Put  there  by  Man-i-tcy  the  Good: 

Shall  we  leave  this — our  chosen  land? 

Or  strike  to  earth  this  Red  Coat  band!" 

'Twas  thus  he  roused  them  for  the  fray, 

And  then  his  plot  before  them  lay; 

Bold  Pontiac's  conspiracy, 

To  gain  their  old  supremacy. 

Then  forth  they  went  through  all  the  land, 

With  stirring  words  from  tribe  to  tribe- 
Arousing  every  Indian  band 

With  Victory — the  offered  bribe. 
And  still  the  soldiers  dozed  away, 
While  nearer  came  the  fatal  day. 
The  settlers  sang  in  fancied  peace, 
And  praises  gave  for  war's  surcease; 
Or  springing  crop  in  girdled  wood 
WThere  gaily  flocked  their  half-wild  brood. 

'Twas  seventeen  hundred  and  sixty-three, 
When  Chieftains  came  a  game  to  see, 
The  fourth  of  June,  the  King's  birthday: 
The  game  was  ball — baggatiway. 
The  stakes  were  high  'twixt  rival  tribes: 

The  sport  increased — the  excitement  grew, 
They  gave  each  other  taunts  and  jibes, 

While  quick  as  thought  the  light  ball  flew. 


LEGENDS. 

It  was  not  caught  with  dusky  hand, 
But  back  and  forth,  from  band  to  band, 
Was  tossed  with  racket's  dext'rous  play, 
Hither  and  yon,  in  the  game's  wild  way, 
As  each  strove  to  send  it  to  the  goal 
Where  stood  his  adversary's  pole. 

The  soldiers  taking  holiday. 
Leave  posts  to  watch  the  queer  ball  play, 
For  the  spot  to  which  the  Red  Men  draw 
Lies  just  without  Fort  Mackinac. 
And  all  about  the  palisades 

In  gaudy  blankets'  gay  array, 
Are  gathered  dusky  squaws  and  maids 

Intent  upon  the  brisk  affray. 
Hither  and  thither,  left  and  right, 
Rivals  follow  the  ball's  swift  flight— 
And  now  it  rises  high  in  air, 
Beset  by  hundreds,  fleet  as  hare, 
It  falls  within  the  pickets  high, 
Pursuing  it,  the  Warriors  fly! 

And  now  a  clamour  smites  the  ear, 

That  smothers  all  the  former  cheer! 

It  is  the  War  Cries'  awful  yell 

Like  fiends  escaping  out  of  hell ! 

From  blankets  gay  of  squaws  and  maids, 

That  mix  among  the  maddened  bands, 
Are  tomahawks  and  gleaming  blades 

Put  into  clutching  ready  hands. 
And  then  they  slaughter  to  their  fill — 
They  scalp  and  torture,  slash  and  kill! 
They  form  their  hands  into  a  cup, 


128 


PONTIAOS  LOOKOUT. 

The  flowing  blood  to  greedy  sup! 
While  mingled  with  the  War  Cries'  call 
Are  dying  groans  as  white  men  fall! 

Ruin  and  carnage  ran  that  day — 
From  Northern  lakes  to  Southern  bay; 
Beyond  the  Alleghany's  chain 
Swept  onward  to  the  Western  plain! 
Bold  Pontiac — the  Pilot,  led, 

The  white  men  fell  like  ripened  wheat! 
Through  all  that  land  the  streams  ran  r  ed ; 

Nine  English  Forts  met  swift  defeat! 
But  few  survived  at  Mackinac 
To  tell  the  awful  sights  they  saw, 
Another  Fort  looks  'cross  the  Strait, 
Toward  where  the  red  men  wrought  their  hate 
To  gain  their  old  supremacy 
In  Pontiac's  conspiracy. 


129 


INDIAN  SUMMER. 


Gone  from  the  mountain, 
Fled  from  the  valley — 
Our  Summer,  with  bright  trail 
ing  robes  of  green. 

Where    hast    thou    jour 
neyed? 

To  climes  Elysian, 
Far,     far    where     mortal     eyes 
never  have  seen? 

Faded  thy  blossoms, 
Vanished  thy  songsters 
Followed  they  all  thy  long  jour 
ney  afar? 

Still  dost  thou  hold  them. 
Safe  in  thy  bosom 
In  some  sunny  clime  where  the 
Southlands  are. 

Thy  realm  is  taken— 
Ruled  by  a  Sovereign 
Who  has  cast  a   glamour   over 
the  land  ; 

Her  charms  are  present, 
Thine  are  forgotten, 
She  is  a  Queen  from  an   Indian 
band. 

Thy  woods  are  altered  ; 
Thy  glades  and  meadows 
She  has  painted  orange,  scarlet 
and  gold  ; 


130 


INDIAN  SUMMER. 

Her  fruit-scented  breath 
From  orchards  is  stealing — 
The  breath  of  the  Indian  Summer   bold. 

Her  buckskin  garments 

Are  decked  out  gaily 
In  colours  dear  to  an  Indian's  heart ; 

Her  snares  of  gossamer 

Mortals  beguiling — 
Are  cobwebs  fashioned  with  exquisite  art. 

Smoke  from  her  wigwam 

Obscures  the  distance, 
And  casts  hazy  shadows  over  the  land  ; 

Her  bright  witchery 

Over  me  stealing 
Makes  her  a  Queen  I  can  scarcely  withstand. 

Her  fetters  I'll  loosen, 

And  haste  to  the  Southland  ; 
Treacherous  Queen  is  this  Indian  bold  ;— 

She  would  hold  me  enthralled 

Until  I  was  captive 
Within  the  White  Realm  of  the  Ice  King  cold. 

I'll  search  in  my  journey, 

For  some  spot  of  beauty 
Where  birds,  leafy  hidden,  warble  their  song; 

Where  balmiest  breezes 

With  fragrance  are  laden, 
And  a  murmuring  streamlet  wanders  along. 


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Legendary 
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